


The Vixen

by Aesari



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arson, Attraction, Being Ina's coach is even more suffering, Bokuto Koutarou jumping into rivers, Bullying, Childhood Friends, Crushes, Death Threats, F/M, First Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inarizaki bullying Miyagi: The Fanfic, Interacting with Ina is suffering, Jealousy, Kageyama Tobio being precious blueberry child, Kita Shinsuke deserves the Nobel Prize, Memes, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Pop Culture, Possessive Behavior, Pray for Kurosu, Questionable Humor, Reader is No Better, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, References to historical events and figures, References to the true crime and serial killers, Somebody call Akaashi pls, Suna Rintarou stealing hearts, Swearing, The Miya Twins Are Little Shits, The Miya Twins Supremacy, The Simp Wars, Underage Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, Vandalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 380,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26773018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesari/pseuds/Aesari
Summary: They call you the Vixen, the deadly manager of the volleyball team, the unmistaken princess of Inarizaki High. The truth is you just like history, murder, and matcha Pocky sticks. Volleyball is the mystery you don't want to uncover, too busy with crying over The Ides of March and pinning over Kakashi Hatake. So, how exactly did you end in this situation, with several volleyball players vying for your attention? You are going to blame the Miya twins. It's always their fault. Why do you love those idiots, again? [F!Reader x Various! Haikyuu]
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Kita Shinsuke/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu & Reader, Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu/Reader, Miya Atsumu/Reader, Miya Osamu/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader, Suna Rintarou/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 891
Kudos: 1257
Collections: oc self insertSI





	1. In which no murder takes place (but god, you are about to change it).

Your first day back in school _sucks_.

It has nothing to do with your teachers, surprisingly. So, okay, they were a little bit on the crazier side if the Molotov Cocktail on the shelf of your chemistry teacher is anything to come by, but studying was never much of a problem for you. 

The problem, like always, was the people.

And yeah, yeah, you _may_ have skipped the orientation on the first day and _possibly_ skipped the lessons on the second, but fuck the butterfly theory, because even if you went in those days, that wouldn’t change your position at all. You are not stupid enough to not know how those rich-ass families work. 

Swallowing a sigh, you sneak off a pocky stick from your little hidey-hole in your pencil case. You munch on it, totally ignoring the lecture about the Great Northern War. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Miss Takaji’s effort. The woman donned a uniform of the Swedish army, though it was not the same one that Carolean soldiers wore, and brought the replica of the flintlock pistols the Swedish cavalry used. 

That was fucking cool, even if the weapon couldn’t kill someone. Or at least you hoped it couldn’t kill you. It would be a lame death.

The thing is, you are _stress-eating_. 

Being back in school after nearly a year is a nerve-wracking experience even if you don’t count how much more important than you are your classmates. 

For example, the foreign-looking girl in front of you. She is the daughter of the current Minister of Justice, not that this position meant much when one of his predecessors was a war criminal. Besides her sits a boy who is the son of the famous idol from the nineties. And there, on your left side? A renowned winner of The All Japan Literature Contest, who is currently publishing his third novel. 

The fact that all those powerful people preferred the private school instead of the free one says a lot. _The_ Inarizaki, after all, has the curious reputation of being the best school both in Hyogo Prefecture and Kansai Region and is the contender towards the title of _the best school_ in Japan, just like the Itachiyama Academy in Kantō and Kamomedai High School in Chūbu. 

And who are you? 

Yeah, you are _nobody_ , but at least, you are nobody with the _knowledge_. You know how those rich-ass schools work and that you arriving earlier wouldn’t change a thing. You would still be isolated and looked down upon because you are an unknown girl who attends Inarizaki on scholarship. 

Okay, so maybe your parents are the bourgeoisie and would die during the Revolution first, but they certainly aren’t fond of sharing their wealth with their rebellious daughter. Neither they will claim you anytime soon, not as long as you refuse to meet their demented demands, so you are practically nobody. 

Not that you would want them to, to be honest. You got in on your own merit, getting a scholarship that is awarded only to three students per year, not because you wanted to interact with spoiled brats of the upper class, but because this was a school your childhood friends attended. 

There was no way you would be able to return to the school without nobody holding your hand. The perspective is just too scary to even entertain in your mind, so you reach for the next pocky stick. 

You ate your matcha pack sometime during a first period, too stressed enough to even think about leaving it for later. Now, you are on your last one, the one flavored with strawberry and while you don’t mind it, there is nothing as delicious as matcha in the world.

That’s a lie. OsaOsa’s cooking is better. 

You fight off the yawn that threatens to spill from your lips at the same moment the bell rings, signaling _freedom_. Or at least, signaling freedom to people who are not losers responsible for cleaning the class. 

That’s not you, by the way, and you thank profusely Chtullhu for that. Miss Takeo screams out something in broken Swedish, before charging towards the exit with her loyal pistol. You flutter your eyelashes, but in the end, you decide that since nobody pays you to care, you are not going to care. 

Carefully, trying to make as little noise as you can, you stand up and start to pack your book, your pencil case/pocky pack to your pink school bag. You just end up closing it, when the doors of the classroom slams open and somebody runs in with the grace of the elephant. 

You have a bad feeling about that. 

You try to sneakily lift your head, wanting to know what sort of disaster haunted your classroom, but the moment your eyes look down on the silhouette, you feel a rope thickening around your throat. 

“Atsu-chan?” 

The words that leave your mouth involuntarily are soft, nearly silent, but somehow, _everybody_ in the class hears you. How the fuck? You have no idea. Maybe they are all androids with perfect hearing, who knows? 

The thing is that your classmates’ eyes instantly shift to you and that, dear Lord of Darkness, is not good, not good at all. A blush rises on your cheek. Okay, you officially fucked up, shit. You should know better. 

You are used to the fact that Atsu is popular. He always was, though the Lord Satan himself doesn’t know what all of those girls see in him when he treats them worse than the trash. 

His fame in Yako, though, was more on the _infamous_ side. Girls liked him because he seemed like such a bad boy stereotype from the beginning and the day he bleached his hair just proved that. None of them knew that he spent the day after whining and moaning about how dry his hair was and you had to research how to dye hair with henna to make them healthier.

Inarizaki is different. Your classmates were talking about both him and Osamu, mentioning their dreamy eyes and how good on volleyball they were, throwing so many praises you nearly asked if they for sure were talking about _the Miya Demons_ , the kings of the playground, and the menace of Yako Middle School. 

The whole experience was so bizarre you thought you are in some parallel universe for a moment. The Miya brothers, _your Miya brothers,_ being liked, seriously? Atsumu has driven at least five teachers out of Yako Middle School. Osamu, his twin, was not a much better person and caused exactly fifteen mental breakdowns in his classroom alone. Not even starting to talk about that one time they started a bonfire in the lab, or how they locked first years in the basement, or –

Yeah. The Miya twins are menaces to the world at large, which is why they were hated before. No matter how proud and happy you are of them, you are not going to lie, though it is not like you are much better. 

You love your friends dearly, but you are not in denial. It’s a pity all of Inarizaki seems to be because the Demon Twins have _fans_. People like them. Not for their personality, of course – who besides you would be dumb enough to like them for it? – but they are enjoying their presence for some reason, nonetheless. Or maybe they are just fond of looking at them.

Yeah, some of the girls’ comments were a little bit worrisome. How do you react when somebody tells you they _would climb like a tree_ your friend? You don’t know, so you did absolutely nothing and continued to eat your onigiri. The fact that this comment will definitely haunt your dreams stay. Seriously, the fuck, girl, respect yourself more. 

They are liked even by boys. That is worth repeating: _they are liked by boys_. You are pretty damn sure they never had an amicable conversation with a boy when you were back in Yako. Gosh, they used to randomly pop into your class and growl at any boy who as much dared to look at you. 

The fact that they are liked now makes you a little bit uneasy. There is pride beaming in your chest at that, but you are not an idiot, no matter how stupid you are. You know that people are terrible beings. You know this too well and you don’t want to see your friends getting hurt by those rich assholes. 

“Sunny!” the nickname rolls out from Atsumu’s tongue easily as he simply doesn’t care about onlookers, ignoring them promptly as he closes the distance between the two of you. You fidget nervously, the eyes of your classmates practically digging a hole in your skull. 

The fact about Atsumu, one of your oldest friends: You would call him a son of a bitch, if that didn’t insult Miss Shouko as well. He is a straight-up asshole, who does what he wants when he wants and does not care about the collateral damage. 

So really, you shouldn’t be surprised when he steals your bag from your table, throws it at his shoulder, and then proceeds to do the same to you without asking for consent or giving you any explanation. 

You hate that you do, in fact, become surprised. 

“What the actual fuck, Atsumu?!” you demand instantly, as you dangle (un)happily from his shoulder, “This is a kidnapping, you bitch!”

This is not how you thought your first day in school will end but to be fair, not many people can predict a literal child abduction happening to them on the day they decide to finally leave their apartment. 

If only the said crime was graceful, not so amateurish. So many witnesses all around you. If you will never come back, at the very least you know that your abductor will meet his end soon. You are very much aware that it can mean the death penalty. Okay, capital punishment is only available for murderers, but still, a girl can have her dreams. 

A hum leaves your kidnapper’s mouth. Your words, it seems, fall on the dead ears. You pursue your lips in anger and swing your leg, trying to kick him in the stomach, but he catches it easily enough. 

“I have your parents’ permission, sunshine,” he replies arrogantly, showing the world why it is so easy to hate him, the little trash he is. 

The thought of your parents is not a nice one, and so you wrinkle your nose in a plain to discern disgust. You have no idea if it is true, but knowing them, they totally were totally up for whatever stupid idea he presented. Or rather, whatever stupid idea Miss Shouko presented in his name. 

The most surprising fact is that he actually asked them anything. Your abductor never even tries to hide his dislike towards them, taking every chance he can to insult them. You don’t mind, not really. The fuckers deserve that and much, much worse. 

“I don’t need their dumb _permission_ ,” you mumble to yourself weakly, trying to ignore drama - hungry teenagers flowing around the two of you, “They shouldn’t be able to give you consent to do anything with me. Let me go, dumb-dumb.” 

Your abductor stops for the second, throwing you a concerned gaze. What a softie. You stick out your tongue at him and see a smile curling at his lips before he continues on his way with you dangling on his shoulder. 

The intense gazes of the people around you make you clutch the jacket of his uniform tighter. Huh, that gives you an idea. Kicking didn’t work, but you still have your hands with your very nice, painted nails. They are not exactly a sharp weapon of destruction like your high-heels, but they will do. 

A mischievous smile appears on your face as you jab your fingers into his shoulder. A hiss of pain escapes his mouth and he stops, so you struggle, trying to set yourself free. The arm around your wrist keeps you steady in his grasp, though. He chuckles cockily, though you notice he walks ahead a little bit awkwardly as if he is in pain. 

_Take that, you good-for-nothing fucker. You deserve that._ He absolutely does for abducting you from your classroom _on your first day._

The first impression is the most important, that you know. You fucked up it in the start, skipping orientation on the first day to play games with your childhood friends, and then skipping the second day of school because you were _too scared_. 

So, yeah, yeah, your classmates already have to think you are such a weirdo and you don’t blame them. For them, you are the strange quiet girl who spent all of her lunch break sitting in the corner because she was too afraid to leave class to meet with her childhood friends, and then got kidnapped the moment the bell rang by one of the said childhood friends. 

You love Atsumu, you really, really do, but sometimes you just want to slap him. You are definitely not in the right state of mind to handle the gossip that will come from one of the most popular in school dangling a girl out of his shoulders. Not when that girl is you.

You knew that returning to the Amazon Jungle known as the school was the worst idea ever. You hold in your tears, doing your best not to care about judging glares of the students from all years. Dear Cthulhu, Inarizaki is a big-ass school. Way too big to be embarrassed like that before _all of them_. 

You swing your legs helplessly in the air as anger slowly seeps through your blood. The position you are in is not uncomfortable or even strange to you. Yeah, you actually have fucking grown up with Tsu, and so you are used to being on his shoulders or in his arms. Most of the time, you are the one who initiates the touch. 

You returned to the school for them. You tried your best, fought with your nerves, and didn’t end escaping, and you did it all for both him and Osamu. They asked you, practically begged you, even as they knew you didn’t want to be back ever again. And you agreed not for yourself, never for yourself, but because you didn’t want to stand between them and their dreams anymore. 

But guess what, motherfucker? You don’t recklessly make people go back to school only to kidnap them the same day. You want to go back to your cozy apartment, to your warm sheets, and the darkness of your room. Your heart knew since the beginning that it was too much and you wouldn’t endure it for long, so really, you - 

_You should have stayed home. You should have stayed home._ _You should have stayed home._

You don’t fault people for gawking at you like an animal in the display. Chtulhu knows that you would totally do the same if you saw some idiot parading their friend over their shoulder around the school’s corridor. It’s not exactly something nice to do, to gawk at people like that, but teenagers were never nice, to begin with. These harpies will kill you the moment Atsu disappears from the view, just like before. 

You exhale loudly. As in the answer, Atsumu bounces you cheerfully on his shoulder. What an asshole. 

“Atsu-chan,” you whisper harshly into his shirt, poking his back with your fingers repeatedly, “If you don’t let me go, I’m going to fucking murder you.” 

“[Name]-chan,” comes his calm answer. In your current position, you are not exactly able to see his expression, but you will bet your worthless soul that he is smiling cockily, “I would care more if you didn’t promise me that every three minutes.” 

You groan loudly and start to punch his back with your fist, trying to force him to let you go. It doesn’t work in the slightest as he doesn’t even stop, the asshole. You whine and nearly surrender, your morale so low you swear Napoleon’s army in Russia was faring better. The most important word: _nearly_.

As you are about to, you catch gazes of some of your classmates or people who you think are your classmates, you don’t know, you didn’t talk to any of them, sue you. Several of them point their fingers at both of you.

It’s super rude, by the way, but you don’t have time to think as you process to blush furiously when the girls giggle.No, no, no, you can’t do this anymore. You hide your face in your palms.

“Atsumu,” you start meekly calling for his attention. He seems to be deep in wonder because he doesn’t answer, so you try again, a little bit more forcefully this time, “Hello, the Earth to AtsuAtsu?”

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” he asks tenderly and you groan again when people squeal at his nickname for you. Your uneasiness has to bring him joy because rather than shut the fuck up, he teases you, “This position brings back memories, doesn’t it? I used to carry you like that all the time, didn’t I? I was such a good friend.” 

“No, that was Osa-chan, you were too busy being an asshole,” you rebuke him none too gently. He doesn’t answer to that and you are damn sure that the child is pouting, “You told me that you are all about not needing fucking memories anyway, you dummy. So, you should let me go.”

He really should. You don’t like how people look at you and misinterpret things in the slightest. Most important of all, if you have to live through more of that gawking, you may spontaneously combust into the explosion of embarrassment and fury. The Big Bang, part two. 

“You probably remember that wrong,” he shakes his shoulder making you yelp as you desperately hold into him, “I was always better than Samu, after all.” 

Yeah, right, not in the slightest.

“Fuck off,” you tell him. Once again, why the hell are you friends with such an awful, terrible person? He is the living embodiment of the trash and if you weren't a peaceful, kind person you would absolutely smack him. 

But, alas, this, and the fact your arms are more noodles than muscles, make such punishment impossible. If only Osamu was here to save you from this shame and disgrace, and to shame his twin, then everything would be alright.

Where is he, anyway? 

“Carrying somebody against their will is abduction,” you object weakly, knowing the degenerate will laugh your words off anyway. He does just that, making you feel much worse. 

You close your eyes and raise your hands to cover your face in them. The tittering of your peers yet again finds your ears, making you even redder. You swear someone whispers _they are so cute_ as well. That can’t be right, though. No normal person would think that this shit is adorable.

You don’t deserve this. You don’t. You are going to cry. You should have stayed home. You would be safe and sound there. Maybe you would watch anime or musicals, drink hot chocolate and eat some bagels Osamu left at your door. That would be nice.

Your train of thoughts is derailed, when Atsumu suddenly stops and swallows audibly in fear. At least, freedom. Somebody finally took mercy on your poor, tired soul and stopped the monster in his tracks. You try to struggle, but Atsu was always stronger than the two of you. You should never make friends with athletes.

“What are you doing, Tsumu?” you hear the sweet, sweet voice of your savior. You stop wiggling and do your best to turn around. 

_Just like you thought._

In front of both of you stands a mirror image of Atsumu. Or rather, it would be his mirror image if Tsu would be so much more handsome and nicer. He is not, so the person before you is the most beautiful boy that has ever graced this sad world. 

Osamu sounds pissed, but to be honest it’s his default tone every time he thinks about Atsumu. You don’t fault him in the slightest. Spending time with the blond takes a toll on the person, so you can’t even imagine living with him. 

“Nothing important, really,” comes the rushed answer of the elder twin and you gasp, insulted. Did - did - did - he just - 

“Did you call me just not important?!” you demand aloud as you take his ear and pull it harshly, “Hey, Atsumu, you bitch, answer me!“ 

You are promptly ignored as the blond focuses all of his attention on his twin. He doesn’t even care about his ear and so, you pull it harshly again, just _because_. His lips twitch as in the pain. That, you decide, is the moral victory. 

“Hey, Samu, weren’t you supposed to go to the practice already? What are _you_ doing there?” 

You hiss. The sheer audacity of this disgusting liar. Liar, liar, liar, pants on fire. You release the hold over his ear, not wanting to be infected by the same Lying Syndrome. You are not about to let him manipulate your best friend, of course.

Without thinking much - thinking is lame anyway - you call Osamu’s name, trying to get his attention on you, the potato sack on Atsu’s shoulders. There is a reason why he is the best and that reason is how he instantly ignores his brother and shifts his eyes to you. 

“Save me from your idiot brother, pretty please?” you request softly. Osamu doesn’t ask any questions and just does what he does best. That is, he makes Atsumu regret being born. 

Atsumu pales as his brother comes close. A shout leaves his mouth and you snicker like an evil fox at the pitiful way he sounds. 

“Wait, wait, Tsumu - “ 

Osamu doesn’t wait. 

You find Atsumu’s form crumbling under the pressure of something, which you imagine is probably Osamu’s leg or his elbow. The older Miya falls, his arm finally losing the grasp on your waist. You don’t really mind ending on the floor, but before you even have to start to worry, SamSam catches you in his arms.

Your lips twist into a smile as you gaze at the composed face of Osamu. Catching your eyes, he returns a smile and brings his forehead close to yours. 

“Hi, Osa-chan,” you giggle happily, leaning into his touch, “Missed you.” 

“Hello, [Name],” he answers fondly, his amber-like eyes shining with what you can only call happiness, “I missed you too. Hope the cretin didn’t cause you too much trouble.” 

You shake your head, not really ready to share your worries while you remain in the public. Later, you are going to complain about how stupid his elder twin is, but right now, you have more important things to do. Your gaze drops to Atsu and you hastily deduce that he is not really hurt. 

Osamu follows your gaze, looking at his twin with exasperation. While Atsu is not lying face down on the floor, he is still a complete disaster. He is lucky that your bag was closed or he would be hurt. 

Atsu rises slowly, way too graceful for the person who just had an accident, you could never. He reaches to take your pretty bag off the floor, ignoring the eyes of the teenagers around you. 

“That was absolutely deserved, by the way,” you inform him spitefully, “What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“He was not thinking, he never fucking does,” Osamu answers as he raises his head, “This is why you are not [Name]’s favorite, Tsumu,” your knight–in–shining–armor throws at the barbarian without any remorse, “This is also why are you not mama’s favorite.” 

“He is right,” you add as you stick your tongue at him and pull your eyelid down, “Nobody likes you, Atsu-chan.”

Atsumu is way too familiar with the insults as he only rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“You are both awful people,” he says dryly, “I hate both of you. I hope you know that.” 

You giggle lightly at that and share a knowing gaze with SamSam. He shrugs and sets you gently down on the floor. He holds your arm for the second, making sure you are steady and well-balanced before he takes a step back. 

Without thinking much you reach over to the hem of his shirt and tug it a little, silently pleading for him to stay closer. He doesn’t need words and instantly shifts, giving you cover from all of the school. 

“Said the person who kidnapped me out of my fucking classroom,” you arch your eyebrow up, “Sam-chan is gentleman, I hope you know that.” 

“[Name]-chan, are you feeling alright?” he asks, reaching over to your forehead and faking checking it for the damage, “Did you get hurt? Because that sounds like brain damage to me.” 

You swat his hand away, huffing. 

“At least I have a brain to damage,” you murmur, bouncing on your feet, “Not like somebody there.”

Osamu chuckles as Atsumu childishly pouts at the remark before he reaches to your hair and ruffles it, destroying the braid that took so much time to do in the morning.

“Asshole,” you whisper to yourself. 

You are heard, though, as one of the voyeurs around the three of you goes _So cute_ loudly. Of course, this shit makes you very much aware that all of you stand in the middle of the hall, surrounded by people from all sides. Feeling anxious, you reach to both of the twins and grasp their sleeves.

"So, what the fu – heck are you doing, Tsumu?”

Acting like a stupid teenager - acting like one? you are an absolutely stupid teenager, who are you kidding? - you giggle with absolute joy with how he has to correct himself in order not to curse. You don’t even know why he tries.

“I was taking our future manager to the gym!” Atsumu exclaims, dramatically waving his arms as he is _a drama queen_. Literal queen. What do you do with queens? Somebody please, call Madame Guillotine.

Also, the manager of their club? You raise your eyebrow. You are pretty damn sure they are both in the volleyball club and you know shit about volleyball, not even saying anything about the fact this is the first time you ever heard about joining any club at all. What the hell is he planning again?

“I never agreed to this,” you object lazily, “So fuck off.”

There is momentary silence as the both of the twins shoot you a careful look and – _oh no._

* * *

Oh no, indeed. 

“Behold! Our new manager!”

 _Liberum veto._ You refuse to even entertain the thought. _Not your new manager, go fuck yourself._

“Fuck off, commie,” is your polite answer as you dangle in the air, “Fuck off so hard.” 

The fact that infamous Miya menaces actually agreed to something is still unsettling. The world is ending, who would have thought? It’s really a pity the thing they agreed about meant your certain doom. 

You don’t remember the last time you were so angry as you use all the curses you know of the people that used to be your friends. Yes, key words being _used to_. The true friends don’t drag their other friends to the gyms, at least not when they are screaming and kicking. There was no way in hell you would go silent into the night, after all, so at the very least you gave them a nice fight. 

“Did you kidnap a child, Miya number two?” asks one of the people before you, a noirette with dead eyes and a dead soul. 

The first thing you actually notice is his accent. He doesn’t speak in the Kansai dialect, like most of Amagasaki’s inhabitants. You don’t really know what accent he speaks, though. It’s not like you to meet a lot of people when you are hiding in your room. But this not really important. 

Because. Because. Because.

You know you are short. You know that very well. Both of the Miya twins feel like Titans next to you, truly, as they never stayed on your level, the traitors. Instead, never knowing a thing about solidarity, they both became taller and taller, until you didn’t even reach their shoulders.

So, yeah, you know you are short, but how the fuck the bitch dared to call you a child to your face? 

You are about to commit a murder. 

“Hey, why am I number two, Rintarou-kun? I’m older,” Atsumu really knows what he should focus on. Yes, exactly the most important point, you stupid deranged orangutan, “Not to say I’m also more handsome and - “ 

“The dumber, yeah, we know.” 

You growl quietly. 

You want to formally return all those good things you said about Osamu. He is no better than his twin. He is actually worse. You hate them _both._ You hate Atsumu. You hate his brother. You hate all of his family, not counting your cool sis Shiina and their mother. The reason why you despise the rest of them, though? It’s easy. 

Atsumu, being the asshole he is, holds you under your arms presenting you to his teammates like a particularly nasty child. His volleyball team. Because, somehow, you are supposed to become their manager. How? You don’t know. You can’t manage your own damn life, what the fuck are they thinking?

“It’s only five minutes, you loser,” your–not–favorite twin reminds him calmly, “Are you trying to compensate for something?”

Sweet baby Jesus, those people are so _tall_. Some of them are taller than your ex-friends. It is no wonder that Zombie would call you a child, though it doesn’t change the fact that you will end his eyes. You peer at him, scoffing, and realize that his hair is strangely intoned. It’s black and then, it’s brown. That is some fucked up, black magic. He is tall, of course, he is, though he really, really looks like he needs a coffee. 

Huh, actually, his hair is similar to coffee. Coincidence? Not a chance. 

You still would fight him, though, no matter how taller than you he is. High heels are a good weapon and you have a pair or two (or thirteen) at your house. It is a pity you are officially no longer friends with twins, they would totally help you bury the body, but you can do this alone as well. All of those true crime documentaries taught you a lot. 

“Five minutes of me being older, Samu. Don’t be jealous, now – “

You ignore their stupid argument, instead choosing to look around the gym, maybe or maybe not seeking the exit. It is large and dumb, and ugly and full of boys. Full of tallboys. 

The worst place to ever find yourself being abducted into. And they all look at you. God. Christ. Allah. Cthulhu. Buddha. And all Japanese gods you never paid attention to. Hm, maybe you can call Inari? Or you know, fuck all of them. Hey, the eternal Lord of Darkness, please open the earth and let it swallow you whole, this is not what you signed up for. 

Actually, you didn't sign up for anything. You were kidnapped. Your sneer, provoking Zombie to look at you. You can’t help but fluster instantly under his gaze. Gods know what he is thinking and you hate being watched by others. You hate other people, period. 

You are a shy, nervous person who doesn’t belong here. 

With all those gazes you feel like on the scene, a very ugly scene because Atsumu sucks even as something so base like being a location.

“So, Miya number two, Osamu, explain yourselves before the captain arrives or nah,” Zombie repeats his inquiry, his eyes tiredly watching you three, “But you know he is going to be on your stupid asses, right.”

Was that a question? It didn’t sound like a question. The twins share a gaze, before shrugging and completely ignoring that. 

“Atsumu, Osamu,” another boy speaks up, and wow, he _is_ tall. The twins, to your surprise, look up to him and they never look up to the people when they are talking, “I have no idea what the two of you are plotting, but you really don’t want to be like that when Shinsuke arrives.”

“He is going to scold you again,” some bitch hisses, completely not caring you are still hanging in the air. Several people nod at that, looking at them with a mixture of exasperation and pity. 

Atsumu and Osamu look at each other, thinking who-knows-what and your heart beats faster as the opportunity presents itself before you. 

You waited for it. Okay, you didn’t, but it sounds cooler when you say you planned it rather than just being fucking random. Remembering how the traitor used your temporary hesitance just a couple of minutes ago, you know better than to stay in place. 

You may be small, you may be weak, but you have fantastic access to one of Atsumu's weak spots. So, without any further thought, you swing your leg backward and kick him straight in the crotch.

You laugh maniacally when he screams and loses his footing from pain. The two of you collapse to the floor. Or rather, the one to fall on the floor, the second time this day, is Atsumu. You end up on him, but you don’t lazily stay put. You can’t wait for how he reacts. Faster than you knew you were capable of, you crawl off him and stand up (maybe, by another coincidence, you kick him again on your way, but that’s just coincidence, you swear). Now, using the bewilderment of your spectators, you beeline it to the door. 

The first problem you encounter is logistics. You know shit about the gym that the volleyball team uses. You are new at school and you hate PE, so it’s not really your fault. It works to your disadvantage, of course, it does, as you must take a second to find an exit. So, so, so. Door, door, where is motherfucking door? There, just behind Osamu. 

Fuck. 

No matter, no matter, gotta go fast, gotta go faster!

“Get rekt, losers!” you scream as you grasp the handle to your freedom, “We’re not friends anymore!”

That is your second problem. You cannot leave without antagonizing the enemy. They deserve it, of course, but still – you should have known better. Just run, and don’t look back. 

“[Name]!”

Scream, scream sweetly for me, Atsu. _Viva la Revolution_! Death to the tyrant! You laugh dramatically as you open the door, finally and truly _free_ –

Your joy becomes ashes on your tongue. There comes your third problem. Yet again, you find yourself forcefully ejected into your problem’s arms, namely, into Osamu Miya’s arms. You hate him. You truly do. 

“He totally deserved it, [Name],” he points his thumb towards Atsumu who is still whining on the floor, “But you shouldn’t forget about me.” 

The picture of your former–friend wailing in pain doesn’t soothe your heart. It makes you angrier because your masterfully done plan lies in ruins thanks to this – this – this –

Jerk. Prick. Dick. Fucker. Asshole. Child of Satan. You hate him. You sniff, trying to hold in the sob. The action causes Osamu to stiffen as frantically looks back at you, panicked for once. You don’t care about it for now, actually hurt feeling hurt over their stupid actions. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you try to reach Osamu's face to slap the shit out of him, just like the good, peaceful person you are. He somehow evades you. How?! You are literally in his arms, this is not fair, you’re going to cry, “You good–for–nothing, you parasite, you traitor, you cheater, you coffee-drinker, you, you, you – “

“What is happening?” your beautiful rant is stopped when a new challenger appears just before you. You sniff again, displeased at this turn of events. 

Your rambling actually was awesome, and you were just about to launch into a long tirade about something. You don't know exactly what your lecture would be about, because you were stopped. Brutally. Rudely. 

Osamu turns around and you use this moment to try to kick him, which is dumb, by the way, but your actions are provoked by seething anger, not rational thinking. Of course, it doesn’t work. 

“Captain,” he exclaims, taking a step back as he frantically looks back to Atsumu. Both of them share a gaze and scrunch your nose. You smell panic. Ignoring your quarry for the second, you peer at the second entrance - wait, fuckers have a second entrance?! You didn’t see it. Of course, you didn’t see it. Wonderful. You had one job, [Name], one fucking job.

Anyway, there you see a boy, who is looking at the spectacle called your life without any emotion whatsoever. He is taller than you, go figure, but you don’t focus on that. His brown eyes don’t hold any warmth. In the contrast, they are colder than the North Pole.

You deduce that this boy has to the captain of their team, mostly from your-former-friends’ faces. He takes one, calm look at everything. He sees Atsumu, being a total wuss and still whining on the floor. He sees you and Osamu. It probably looks hilarious to him – the big, bad twin with the little girl trying to unsuccessfully kill a much taller, stronger athlete. 

Unsuccessfully for now, though. Let him just give you a second and you will absolutely assassinate the fucker. You involuntarily shiver as his gaze leaves you and reach idly to Osamu’s face. You poke him lightly in the nose. 

“A minute, [Name],” he whispers gently. In response, you puff your cheeks in anger and return your burning gaze at the boy who holds the attention of all of the room.

“What did you do this time?” he asks. His hair, white curls with black ombre on the ends, follow the movement of his head as he shakes his head. There is no way it is natural, but at the same time, it doesn’t look dyed. 

“It’s Samu’s fault,” Atsumu reports at the same as Osamu exclaims sharply, “It’s Tsumu’s fault, captain.” 

A sweat drops down your forehead. You swear they share one brain cell, and the one to hold it most of the time is _you_.

You are going to give the credit where it’s due: the boy doesn’t look fazed in the slightest. He arches his eyebrow up, acting like somebody who has dealt with twins’ bullshit a lot and knows how to take care of them. That’s - that’s curious, you guess. You didn’t know they had a lot of friends in school. To be honest, you didn’t expect them to have many friends with the way things were back in Yako. 

“What happened?” the boy asks, but he doesn’t even look at the twins, “Aran?” 

_Edgar Allan Poe?_ You lift your head and scan the gym. You don’t see the writer anywhere, damn it. 

“They just arrived like that, Shinsuke,” comes the tired response of the dark-skinned boy, not the author, “You know them, I have no idea what is their plan and to be honest, I don’t want to.” 

“I see,” the boys answers. You are pretty sure he doesn’t see, but you have a hard time caring when voices are yelling in your ears. 

“Wait, wait, how is it my fault, Tsumu? It was your plan!”

“You nearly let her get away, Samu! You should be the one to – “

What is with this stupidity? What is - what is wrong with them?! They force you to go to the school, they kidnap you, they behave like total idiots and - 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“You are not my friends anymore,” you inject furiously, for once not caring about the audience, “I don’t want to know you anymore. Let me go, _Miya–san_.”

 _Miya-san._ The magic word was spoken. Osamu’s expression falls instantly and before you blink Atsumu is suddenly at your face. How in the hell? He was just lying helplessly on the floor. It’s not fair he is so fast! 

“You are joking, right?” the older twin instantly asks, not knowing your current concerns, “That’s a joke. My sunshine would never mean it.”

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with you, but,” Osamu drawls on words carefully, knowing you are easy to provoke, “You mean you are not friends with Tsumu, right? And you called him by the last name? Hey, [Name], dearie, please?”

“What the? Hey, Samu!”

“See what you did, Tsumu? She is really, really angry because of you.”

“What did I do? You helped me!”

You cross your arms defiantly and pursue your lips into a scowl. Idiots. Stupid idiots. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You hate them and want to go home. Why don’t they just let you go and play volleyball or whatever they do when they don't ruin your life?

"She is pouting. She’s so cute when she does it,“ you nearly spit at Atsumu and he backpedals really fast, “I mean – don’t be angry, sunshine. We are doing this for you, you know.“

“That's the worst excuse ever, Tsumu, she will never believe - “

“Atsumu, Osamu, we are waiting for an explanation.”

The cold voice of the captain works better than the blow to their faces. You know it because you punched them before and they never reacted like that. They stiffen in fear before they share a glance over you again. You do your best to non–verbally convey that you will, in fact, hurt them at the first opportunity.

“We found a new manager,” Atsumu starts weakly, choosing to ignore your threats for now. Good. He will forget about you, giving you a chance to strike from the shadows like an assassin or a ninja. 

“You kidnapped a new manager,” the captain fixes that sentence for you. Wow. That was impressive, you are not going to lie. He just totally dragged Atsumu, and somebody who can do it deserves nothing, but the utmost respect.

Maybe he is cool. Like his hair. It looks really good maintained. Huh, what shampoo does he use, you wonder? Your hair is not exactly badly taken care of, but your routine could be definitely improved. It is a pity you will never be able to ask him about it because you will too busy in prison.

And even if you will not be caught, then, well. You don’t talk with people. You simply don’t. That's just not what you do and you are not going to change it even for the possibility of nicer, softer hair.

“Kidnapped is not exactly the word I would use, captain,” Atsumu tries, his real emotions hidden under a smile, the fake bitch he is, as he places his hand on his chin. Oh, look somebody going for a persuasion check. Not on your guard!

“Fuck you, you filthy man-whore.” 

The natural one, dear Atsumu, go home, you are drunk.

“Sunshine, you really have to calm down,” he tries gently before looking accusingly at his brother, “And maybe spend less time with Samu, he teaches you such foul language – “

“Asshole,” you chip in cheekily with a scowl on your face, making Atsumu lose his smile. He tries to save himself from your rage. 

”Sunny – “

“You are so fucking stupid, Tsumu,” Osamu interrupts before you can and you have to catch yourself because you nearly smile at the Great Betrayer.

“Get fucked, SamSam,” you nearly snarl to forget that you love those idiots, "I don’t need you to protect me from AtsuAtsu.”

Yeah, the truth is: you totally do, but you are mad and sad at the same time. You are _smad_. Nobody even apologized to you yet. You demand to be given an apology now because you are fucking upset and you want to go back home. If they really cared about you, they would get you away from here and then fall to their knees to beg for your forgiveness. You would not forgive them, no way, no – no, nein, nope, nie, null. 

Okay, you totally would. But they don’t know it, so you will not tell them. 

Strangely, your words make them both brighten. The smiles they send you would be so endearing, but you are furious! You are seething! You are a machine of destruction and hate! You are the future Dark Lord! No cute smiles will win you over!

“You are no longer angry, are you, sunshine?” Atsumu teases and then proceeds to pinch your cheek, “You are an adorable little monster, we all know it, c’mon, you don’t have to pretend before us.”

You try to bite his finger, but he returns his hand before you can do it. Not knowing what to do, you hiss at him like an angry kitten. The Demon Twin Number One smiles at you fondly, as he caresses your cheek, somehow without releasing you. Cheater. 

“Atsumu. Osamu.”

It’s the captain. Cold, cold captain. 

Yeah, you are still the spectacle of the volleyball team. There are even more people now than minutes ago – and all of them are tall and intimidating, and you are totally not comfortable with being the manager of those monsters. You are not fine with even being with them in the same room. You want out. 

You are not going to ever start about how you know shit about volleyball and you don’t want to change that. 

“That’s our little sister, [Name] Date," Atsumu lies smoothly, “She was long lost, but after years and years of a long search, we finally found her in the Amazon jungle.”

What. 

“What am I?” you wonder angrily, “Bill Grills?”

“To be honest, she is my biological sister,” Osamu confesses dramatically, “Atsumu is the one that’s adopted. Don’t tell him.”

“I’m right here, Samu.”

“Ooops.”

“You don’t look like you are sorry, you jerk!”

Because he is not, duh. 

“I don’t share DNA with you idiots,” you argue venomously, “You dragged me there against my will. Let me go.”

“That is not very nice, [Name],” Atsumu waves his index finger at you with fake disappointment, “We even talked about you with our coach and got you that very prestigious position!”

 _So prestigious_ , you dangle your legs into the air, _That no loser is actually the manager right now? I call bullshit, AtsuAtsu._

“Without telling her anything about this,” the captain interjects sharply, making you turn around to face him.

He _glares_ at the twins. You really like him. He is really blunt and cuts straight to the point, not caring about Miya menaces stupid excuses. You will, probably, join his fan club or something. If you will remember about him after the whole drama is over. 

“You don’t understand, captain!” Atsumu tries quickly to defend himself and his twin, “She is our childhood friend, and her family moved to Tokyo, so they asked us to take care of her.”

That’s a lie. Not about your family moving to Tokyo, though you doubt your parents are exactly staying in Tokyo. More like, they have a house in Tokyo that they visit when they are in the country. And it’s not like it’s a new development. You are living alone for nearly three years now, you think. 

“And she would die out of boredom or worse, get kidnapped if she had to wait for us to take her home after practice,” Osamu adds calmly. He knows you too well, but also, what the fuck, you wouldn’t, overprotective bastard, “Not to talk about all delinquents that like to prey on pretty girls.”

“You wouldn’t want this poor, little girl to get hurt, right, captain?” Atsumu once again tries to pass the persuasion check. Didn’t he learn anything? 

“What I am, a fucking five-year-old?”

“Language,” the captain of the volleyball team scolds without hesitation – oh, okay, okay, you don’t like him anymore. You blush furiously at his words, “I understand you had good intentions, but you should talk about it with your friend before deciding to drag her here.”

“She would never agree!” they refute simultaneously. You giggle without any thought. 

Your boys know you so well.

Wait, you are angry at them. 

“Then you shouldn’t make her,” answers the captain calmly. Okay, you are back to being a fan. He is, well, strangely respectful, but that’s not exactly a flaw. You don’t even know his name, but you can’t help like him a little tiny bit. 

Everyone who can make Miya twins feel ashamed is superhuman. That’s the best part. They are totally embarrassed. You see their ears being a little bit red and they refuse to meet your eyes. Hehe, that’s fantastic. Maybe you will forgive them if they crawl on their knees and buy you a pack of chips. 

Your fantasies are abruptly cut off.

“What’s your name?”

You nearly scream.

You send a panicked gaze to the twins. Like, what are you supposed to do?! How do you talk with people?! Oh, god, oh god, he asked for your name, but does he really want your name? This is a trap! Don’t answer, [Name]. Just cry. Yes. Cry. Cry. Cry. It’s always a good strategy. Make an enemy think you are too pathetic.

You are saved, once more, by Osamu.

“Her name is Date-”

“I didn’t ask you, Osamu.” 

Fuck. A rope thickens around your chest. You want to scream, but it’s hard to even open your mouth, it’s hard to breathe. Atsumu’s fingers find their way to your face and he caresses it slowly, training his eyes and you and trying to encourage your silently. 

_Be brave_ , you remember, _Be brave._

And so, you try to be brave. 

“Uhm, I–I’m Date [Name],” your voice is no louder than a whisper. You really hope he doesn’t hear you and decides to leave you the fuck alone. 

“Set Date–san down, Osamu. I will show her the ropes.”

He heard you. 

_He heard you._

It’s time to abandon the ship. Hello, people? This is Titanic, and you are going down, because of one stupid iceberg - that is, the captain, of the _Inarizaki Volleyball Team_. You wish you could go down like Bismarck, being fired on for about an hour and drowning only then. Bismarck even had a pretty, cute cat. He lived on and was saved by the British who later named him Oscar. 

“Captain, what are you planning?” Osamu questions for your sake. He heard your mental scream. He had to. You squeeze his arm, thanking him silently. 

“She is already here. She can at least stay for one time and see if she likes it,” he throws a sharp look at you, and well, you think you are going to die, “You two go change and start to practice. We had enough disturbances already. Date–san, if you could?”

_Date-san couldn’t. Can’t. Really, haha, what a pity._

At those words, Osamu beams at you with a little bit of hesitance before setting you down. Traitor alert, yet again. But at least, the floor. Beautiful, beautiful floor – god, you missed it. A little bit of shame that you will totally not run for it, right? Haha, you wouldn't dare, hahaha.

You look cautiously at the captain, assessing him. He is tall, not as tall as twins, but taller than you, just like anybody on this godforsaken landscape. Wasn’t Japan supposed to be full of small people? Where are they?! Why is everybody taller than you? He is muscular, though. Not as much as this tall motherfucker in the back, but still. You have noodle arms, while he possesses powerful arms and legs that could potentially crush you without much care. You probably don’t want to get on his bad side, not while there is so little distance between you two, so – you give up. Give up, [Name]. You will do it. Just today, though.

You bite down your lip and nod at him, not trusting your voice.

When you walk in his direction – and gods, the gaze of the rest of the team, you can’t take it, you are going to think of this day on long, sleepless nights five years from now if you survive so long – he starts to go into some direction, not even looking at you. Well, rude. Do you have any choice? No, you don’t. You lament your fate.

Osamu and Atsumu watch you follow the captain without a word, traitors yet again. They got away with it, they got you here and their captain is not angry anymore. It is not fair, so you stop impulsively for a second. Turning around you bring your thumb next to your neck and slit it deliberately across your throat. You send them a sweet smile before continuing to waddle after the captain. You hear them gulp audibly and cannot help it if your smile changes to something demonic.

You will make them pay if you live through this _practice_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, people reading endnotes!
> 
> Welcome to my entirely self - indulgent Reader x Haikyuu fic, where Date [Name] has the questionable pleasure of being childhood friends with Miya brothers, but being friends means they are practically married to each other while being in denial about that. The sole reason I wrote this thing is that I wanted a fic where Reader doesn't try to stop Miya brothers, instead of joining their shenanigans, so expect chaos, stupidity, and nerdiness. And while Reader gets better with swearing less, pretty much half of her character is cursing and scheming murder. I like to joke that she's a little bit like a chihuahua, barking at all people when people she knows are close and getting pretty scared without them.
> 
> I'm not a native speaker, so I would appreciate it if you see mistakes to point out! This story is cross-posted on Quotev under my nickname "Caesaris" if you prefer to read it there!
> 
> Edit from 30.11.20: This story is canon divergent, though it is a slow start. The romance options right now are Atsumu, Osamu, Rin, Shinsuke, Kageyama, Ushijima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Bokuto, and Kuroo. I don't plan to add any more at the moment of writing this note. Right now, I'm planning to write the main route until the Spring Tournament and then break it into character routes. This means every character will get his own ending, not counting the Miya twins who will probably get three ends: one with Osamu, one with Atsumu, and one in which they end in a poly relationship.
> 
> The chapter was last edited on 17.01.21.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Hope you have a wonderful day!


	2. In which you plot revenge (the best plans are always laid).

Let’s get one thing out of the way: Date [Name] was, is, and always will be awful at human interactions. No matter time, no matter the universe, that is the truth of this confusing world. You were terrible with people. You are terrible with people. You will be terrible with people. 

You used not to care about that much, back when you were bolder and stronger. Now though? You are a walking disaster and you care very much. 

How do you human? 

Seriously, _how_? 

You have no idea in the slightest how to behave and that reply could save your worthless life right now as you follow the captain of the Inarizaki Volleyball Team. He was much cooler back when you were back with Atsumu and Osamu, not alone with him without any human shield. If he screams at you, you are deadass going to cry. 

You never were a popular kid. You can count the number of friends you had in your whole life on one hand: Atsumu, Osamu, Yua. There is also the one that you can’t really count, being both your friend and your archnemesis. 

But yeah, that’s it. 

Yua was long gone from your life, the same going for your archrival, so your only _real_ friends are Atsumu and Osamu. Or rather, they were your only real friends, because you are now planning their future demise. 

But ignoring your homicidal plans, how are you supposed to know how normal relationships work? How to communicate with others? How to fucking continue with your life? Your parents are pretty much useless, as you haven’t seen them in a year and it’s something you don’t want to change. Your biological brother is a bitch and you would rather die than talk to him. Then what about a cashier at your local konbini? Bitch, you are too afraid to meet his eyes. You're pretty sure he thinks you are the biggest weirdo ever.

So. How are you supposed to talk with him? He, being the captain of the volleyball team, of course. You know nothing about him. _Absolutely nothing_.

You peer at him with the corner of your eye as you nervously reach for the hem of your uniform’s sleeve. You fidget with it, your eyes still trained on the boy. 

Okay, you know how he looks like, though it would be hard not to, as he is the one leading you. You noticed before that he is taller than you, and well, what a surprise, he still is and you absolutely hate it. At the very least, you guess that he is not as tall as the twins. Yeah, as if that helps you. 

You can’t help but notice the effortless grace he moves with. Confidence is practically radiating out of him in waves and you instantly know that you could never compare to him, no matter how good your grades are or how many languages you know. The boy before will always be better and that makes you feel a little bit bitter and jealous. 

He’s your polar opposite. The yin to your yang. You know him for about five minutes and you know that he is born leader, born capital, and his future is grand and marvelous unlike yours. After all, you are just a stupid little girl, too afraid to speak loudly. The one who ran away, the one that has to be taken care of, the one incapable of anything on her own. 

_(Pathetic, Date.)_

You are _nobody. But you are nobody with the knowledge._ You may be the most self-deprecating person in Japan, but you know that you are not exactly stupid. Okay, you are stupid, but you are not dumb. Your grades are very good, okay?! You know your shit. 

You crave revenge against the Miya twins. You want to poke them with sticks and not give them any carrots, but that will have to wait. You should run at the first opportunity. And don’t look back, [Name]. Don’t look back. Just go to your apartment, close the damn door, and never go out again. Really, that’s all you can do. 

Because. Because. Because. 

If Inarizaki High School is a big deal, then their volleyball team is an even bigger one. 

And yeah, you know nothing about volleyball, but your friends breathe this sport. You don’t know exactly how many schools offered them sports scholarships, but that number was definitely above a hundred. And yet, they decided to go to Inarizaki, the school that was so close to their house. 

There was a reason for that, of course. You remember Atsu gushing about this school, talking about how Inarizaki goes to the Nationals nearly every year and that means he will finally stop having to play with selfish scrubs. Osamu may have sighed loudly back then, and you nodded, telling him how a terrible person he was with a gleeful smile. 

You watched a few of their games, mostly because you felt guilty when the Miya twins decided not to attend the last year’s Nationals because of _you._ And well, even a person as clueless as you could easily see how skilled they were. 

The boy with beautiful hair is their captain.

You are doomed, you definitely are. You step out of the gym anyway. So, should you follow this unknown male out into a strange, dark alley? You are pretty sure _How not to get mugged 101_ said no. 

Wait. What if you will not get mugged? What if he's actually a delirious serial killer? His gaze definitely belongs to one. They will find your body in pieces in the lake, won’t they? You don’t want to be in the lake! That’s the stupidest place to hide a body in! Fuck, fuck _, fuck_ –

Oh, wait, [Name], take a deep breath. He guides you to a building nearby. You are pretty sure it’s not abandoned, so you will probably live. Probably is a keyword. He still may kill you. You walk into that definitely-not-abandoned building in which you will definitely not die. It’s not exactly a big building, or at least that you think. Then, you realize, that this whole building belongs to the volleyball team and feel yourself becoming a little bit dizzy. 

You bite down on your lip as the boy stops.

“This is where we hold equipment,” the captain turns the key in one of the doors, oblivious to your thoughts, “Nets, balls, shirts, things like that. There is a list of all of the equipment, to make sure nothing gets stolen, though it’s not the theft is not a big problem in our school,” he informs you coldly and you shiver, feeling as if he called _you_ a thief, “The manager task is to make sure everything works fine. If there is a need for equipment to be replaced, a special order is placed on coach Kurosu’s desk. I will show you when you can find forms later.” 

You have to fight back the groan as you walk in close and lean against him to look at the dark, dark room. You frantically move your head, wanting to at least switch the light on, so you can see _anything_ because right now you feel like you are visiting a murder scene. Your murder scene. Wait. Wait. Wait, he is not going to kill you?! 

Your fearful orbs jump to his calm, brown eyes and as if he was reading your mind, he reaches in and flips the switch. You bat your eyes, trying to get your eyes used to the sudden light. 

Well, well, well, you don't see a body. That’s good. Maybe. There are baskets full of balls, several ball pumps, poles, straps, and, of course, nets. So many nets. You evaluate the room quickly and - wait, what is that magazine? Just under one of the baskets, yeah, it is. You squint your eyes and feel yourself blush as this is definitely not a magazine that belongs in the high school. 

You look up to the captain and well, it doesn’t seem he notice. What to do? How the hell are you supposed to communicate with the boy before you? He, who wields power over the Demon Twins themselves? 

You bite down on your lip. There is no way in hell the captain of the so-called powerhouse is somebody to trifle with. He saw you at your absolute worst. What if he thinks you are poking fun at him? Yeah, you are not going to tell him about that. He still seems to be waiting for any sort of answer, though. 

“I’m sorry,” you start brilliantly, your eyes downcast, “I-I don’t know,” you stutter out, feeling so uncomfortably you congratulate yourself on not freezing. Or at least, you intend to do so, before you realize that that was the wrong thing to say. 

You have no idea how to deal with the cold rage of Russia’s personification next to you. His brown eyes glare into you, making it ever hard to breathe and easier to think that this is your end because that was the wrong thing to say. 

Your blood freezes, as fear takes hold of you. A huff of air leaves your mouth and you know that you cannot win against him, which means that you have to escape. It will be easier than dealing with this blizzard around you he caused. 

Yeah, running away is a brilliant idea, unlike that manager stick. You becoming responsible for something when you have trouble being responsible for yourself. That’s historic, and you know that your former-friends are stupid and chaotic, but there have to be some sort of line they will not cross and that should be it. You cannot even talk to strangers without them holding your hand, for fuck’s sake. 

And, wow, you still cannot move as those freezing eyes follow you. You whimper a little and throw your hands before you in a poor attempt to defend yourself from him, “I–I’m really w-weak. There is no f-fucking way I will s-set it up myself.” 

“Language,” he repeats, as he arches his eyebrow up and continues calmly, way too calmly, “Nobody expects one person to do it all, so you will have help if you decide to become the team’s manager. The first-years mostly take care of it now anyway.” 

It’s calm before the storm, isn’t it? It sure feels like that, but you find that he doesn’t scream at you even as the seconds come and go. That’s baffling, how nice and understanding he seems even as his brown eyes are evaluating your worth. Well, sikes, sucks to be them, because there is not a lot worth be found. 

Maybe you are better at this talking thing than you thought if people can at least feel sympathy for you. You are not exactly an impressive figure and that is not your insecurities speaking. It’s simply the truth. You know what he sees: a tiny, tiny girl who is all bark and not bite. The truth is, you are not. Okay, you are small but also full of righteous rage and desire to conquer the world in the future. 

He doesn’t see it and he will never do. You think it’s sympathy or pity that makes him so calm because you know how many people find you pathetic, and, if you are being honest, you agree with them. 

You pursue your lips into a thin line as the question burns in your mind. Recklessly, you feel your mouth opening before you can truly think. Just like always. 

“Y-you don’t have m-manager?” you stutter out and jump up in fright when he slams the doors of the equipment room close. Not getting killed now, yay, you shouldn’t really complain, but did he really have to be so brutal? 

“Our last manager, Sasagawa–senpai, left two years ago,” he informs you as he takes a step ahead and starts to walk somewhere deeper into the building. You bring your finger to your lip, as you follow him. Left two years ago, huh?

Atsu claimed it was a prestigious position. Liar, liar, pants on fire. Oho-ho, burning all of his pants to exact your vengeance? That’s a nice plan. You seethe with anger and hate as discreetly as you can. It works, mostly because you are behind the captain and he can’t truly observe you. 

The next doors he stops at are red as the blood and that thought doesn’t help in the slightest.

“This is the office of volleyball’s coaches,” Mister Capitano explains calmly, “Both Oomi–sensei and Kurosu–sensei are not here today, but if you decide to be our manager you should speak to them.”

 _Yeah, no fucking way._ You nod and send him a shaky smile. Wrong thing to do again. Fuck. You are really awful at this people thing. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he scolds you, and yet again, you find yourself fidgeting with your sleeve and holding back the tears. Seriously, he would be so much cooler if he only talked shit about Atsumu and Osamu.

"Y-yes, sir.”

He sends you another of those cold looks that make him look like the unfeeling robot, who is bent on the destruction of humanity. Maybe he is one. You wouldn’t be surprised. It's a more plausible theory than aliens anyway. 

“Being nervous will not help you accomplish anything,” he tells you seriously. What a good uncle! Advising his stupid, little niece. Only, you are not his niece. And this advice is shit. Not that you will ever tell him, though. 

If you didn’t feel so intimidated, you would roll your eyes. What a conceited asshole. Does he think you are anxious just to be petty? That doesn’t work this way. You are not, thank you very much. It’s not your fault that you are so, so nervous right now. You just don't function properly without any of your friends in the direct line of sight. 

You want them back. Very much. Please. You would even forgive them for being assholes, just feel Osamu squeeze your hand or Atsumu’s arm around your waist. Anything to not be so painfully alone, and vulnerable. 

You shift your gaze awkwardly. Dear Ancient Ones, you made this man too perfect, too powerful. You can’t help but feel jealousy and fear at the same time for him, and that’s not fair, really. 

“Y - yes, sir,” you struggle a bit to say it, but you can, which makes you proud. Talking is hard. Functioning is hard. Somebody should give you some sort of prize for dealing with this. 

Communicating with strangers is nearly impossible for you normally, and you did it so much today already and your stutter is not even half as bad as normal. So, that prize, maybe? It’s a little victory for humanity, but a big one for you, after all. 

“You don’t have to call me _sir_ ,” he says as he shakes his head in disappointment. You flinch. Yeah, you always disappoint people, but it’s really, really hard to not feel really down when somebody acts like that just after you feel a little tiny bit proud of yourself, “My name is Kita Shinsuke. I’m from class 3–7.”

So, first off: he is older than you and the twins. The second thing: Classes with the number 6 are the most advanced classes in the school, which means, he is handsome, he has status, and he is intelligent. Shouldn’t he leave some of that goodness for others? That’s selfish of him. So, so selfish. 

“I–it’s a pleasure to meet you, senpai,” the polite words stumble from your mouth awkwardly, as you bow before him, repeating your name, “I’m Date [Name] from 1–7.”

“You are younger than twins,” he notices and you can’t feel a little bit petty. What an astute observation, dear sir, “Atsumu called you their childhood friend. How did you meet if you are younger?”

Not in the school, if that’s what he is asking for. To be honest, you are a little bit impressed that he remembers such little detail when you don’t even remember what he said a second ago. Shit, what he is asking you, again? Ah, yeah, how did you meet twins, righto, you are on it. 

The tale of your first meeting is really wholesome and you can totally talk about your first meeting with hellish twins for hours. That particular memory is one you are extremely fond of, mostly because you and Osamu became friends nearly at the first sight, and together, you totally owned Atsumu that day. 

You giggle softly at the thought. He doesn’t like to talk about this at all, as he is the sore loser, the sorest of them all. 

“I met them when I was five,” you reminisce keenly, taking a strand of your hair and spinning it around your finger. For the first time, you feel nearly comfortable in Kita’s presence, “They were tyrannical kings of the swings, but little me didn’t care and kicked Atsumu out of his seat.”

That sounds bad out of the context, but you were really pissed that day and the boys were taking forever to get out of the swings. Kicking Atsumu out, though you didn’t know his name back then, seemed like the best solution to your problem. 

Atsumu didn’t think so, as he stood up, ready to throw a punch in your face. You were faster, though, as you dodged and took his cap, which was dropped when you kicked him, out of the ground. With a shit-eating smile, you started running, won a race against him, and proceeded to climb to a tree to avoid his touch. That may not sound impressive, but you were wearing a heavy dress your mother forced you into earlier. 

Little Atsu didn’t stand a chance. He couldn’t even climb up that tree, so you were holding the high ground and calling him such intricate insults like _poo-poo_ and _donkey_. Yeah, truly, you were such a wordsmith. Osamu got angry at you then. He used to have a very simple mentality when he was younger: _Nobody but me insults Atsumu!_

As a child, he also didn’t possess such a foul mouth, so you weren't insulted out of orbit. He didn’t make you cry, as he instead chose to beat you up with his small fists. To do so, he had to climb the tree. That’s what changed everything. You looked at each other deeply into your eyes and found kindred agents of mayhem and chaos in each other. The world was changed forevermore. 

Okay, that’s not what happened at all. You exaggerated. The two of you were _Naruto_ fans. Somehow, you managed to bond over that manga while sitting in the tree. As far as you remember it was because you were being cool ninjas at trees. Osamu forgot, probably intentionally, his great plan to avenge his brother as he was enjoying his time with you. 

The best thing? Atsumu was never able to scale up this tree. You giggle again. So lame. Both you and Osamu had to leave your cool hide-out because Atsu looked to be ready to cry. He even started crying and this is why Osamu asked you to give his brother back his cap. You agreed as you were nice. 

In answer, Atsumu punched you and you started kicking him, starting your first fight ever. Your mom wasn’t proud, though, and it was not because you didn’t win. To be honest, the real victory that day belonged only to Osamu. 

The next day, the playground had two kings and one queen. Which didn’t make historical sense, but was a cute, dumb way child used to think. You end your tale, holding back just one small thing close to your chest. You never told it even Osamu and Atsumu, so there is no way in hell you will share it with Kita. 

You still remember your parents’ anger to this day. Their eyes as they looked at your destroyed hair and demolished dress, and demanded to know _where you have been_. You stuck your tongue out of your mouth and told them nothing, not caring in the slightest, because you finally had friends. Real friends. 

You hear a little laugh coming from your side and you find it’s coming for Kita, as he looks unexpectedly fondly at you. Sir Kita just _laughed._ Red alert. He is not a robot, who would have thought. Not you, geez. 

Wait. Maybe he is a robot, just the one that can imitate human sounds. You sneak a glance at him and holy fuck. You suddenly feel like you are gazing at some sort of picture made by Leonardo Da Vinci. He is just so relaxed, so happy, so unlike the persona that he showed you mere seconds ago. He looks so much nicer like that. 

Nice robot technology, wow. 

“Kings of the playground?” he asks you suddenly, his eyes gentle, “It sounds like the twins.”

 _Oh._

Now you feel kind of bad for thinking so poorly of him. It seems he really likes or even cares about your friends. His friends? 

You take a deep breath, thinking it over in your head. The Miya twins having a friend, huh? For a long time, you were their only one. It is as strange as the concept of them being well-liked, you suppose. You feel - well, it's the next bizarre thing. 

You would lie if you said you aren’t jealous, the bitter taste present on your tongue. Them having other friends makes you remember that they are much more worth than you, and one day, you will be left behind, just like you deserve to be. 

That terrible feeling is overshadowed by the enormous pride that threatens to tear down your body. Once again, you hold off the tears from running down your eyes, though this time it’s pure happiness that wants to spill out of your body. Look at them go, your troublesome boys, making at least one friend.

You don’t want to trouble Kita, their friend, so you do your damnest to hold your tears back.

“T-they were always mischievous and tricky, you know,” you share with him shyly, “Always doing whatever they want. Trouble followed them at every step and well, you know how it is. To fix the trouble, make even bigger trouble.” 

Okay, they dragged you here without your consent. Okay, they embarrassed you before the whole school. Okay, they are fucking assholes. The thing, you know they love you. They want They wanted to help you in their own, stupid way. They didn’t want to leave you alone, waiting in the dark for them. 

God, you love them too. They are idiots, but they are _your idiots_. Your smile becomes much more sincere as you think about them. 

“They are wonderful people,” you add without any sarcasm, “Thank you for taking care of them.”

You bow a little, as other words stay unsaid. 

_If you hurt them, I will hunt you to the end of the Earth._

You don’t say that as you link your hands behind your back, feeling like you are made from the clouds. Your words should imply that already and if he is blind, then well, he will learn. As long as you are alive, nobody will hurt them. 

You are still happy, though. Way too happy. You want to sing. You want to dance. Both of these ideas are very much stupid, so you hum instead, a soft melody leaving your lips. It may seem a little bit out of place, probably, but Kita doesn’t seem to mind. Or at least you hope so. 

He looks - well, he looks different right now. Somewhat more meek? Or more like, he is in some sort of trance, as he continues to just gaze at you, inspecting your face, but not seeing anything. He doesn’t look like the type to do drugs, so what’s wrong? You tilt your head, not knowing what to do.

“Kita-senpai?” you question him hesitantly. You find yourself not liking that you just stand in the middle of nowhere doing nothing, who would have thought. Can - can you go home? You bounce on your feet nervously and he finally seems to wake up, “Is-is there something wrong?” 

“That’s no problem at all, Date–san,” he replies, surprisingly meekly and gently for somebody so sharp, “Will you think about being a manager? You didn’t seem to be too enthused about this idea.”

Well. Your shift awkwardly on your feet. This is pièce de resistance, is it not?

You didn’t change your mind, but you feel like, maybe, just maybe, you judged twins too fast. Here, you made a mistake, you are going to admit it, but that’s still their fault. They dragged you somewhere without your consent and that’s awful. What were you supposed to do, smile, and wave? No fucking way. Of course, you would fight back in such a situation.

But. 

You know that deep, deep, deep - even deeper - down they are good people who care about you a little too much to consider it healthy. You are going to forgive them, in the end, but it’s not what he asks you for. 

You flicker a bit and wrinkle your nose. You can’t say that, not really, so you need a better excuse. Anxiety would be ideal, but you know that this particular card will not work for him. It’s the only thing you have, though, so you may go for an honest, pitiful reason. 

“I'm an anxious person, Kita–senpai,” you confess shyly. Is it really confession though? Only a blind man would not see it, “I’m awful with people. I don’t know if I will be, well, adequate, I suppose, for such a role.”

“I think you would do fine,” he answers softly and you feel sweat dripping from your forehead, “You are doing now right now, after all.” 

Yeah, sikes, you are not doing well. Really not. You only calmed down, because he mentioned twins. Lord of the Darkness, twins, your dear, dear friends. What the fuck will you do with those well-meaning fools? 

You can’t forgive them just like that. It will only embolden them and they will end dragging you into ridiculously shit even more. You don’t want it. You want your school life to be boring, normal, and without any drama. You want to live your life unafraid of your classmates. And, most important, you don’t want to relive your last year at middle school.

_(You are so pathetic.)_

So.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? As if sensing your apprehension, he shakes his head slowly, looking at you surprisingly gently for a robot. 

“You don’t have to answer now, Date – san,” he tells you. Has he always sounded so gentle and considerate? You don’t know, you truly don’t, but you waddle after him as he takes you deeper into the complex, “Let’s go back to the tour. The laundry is done – “

No, you hate the laundry, you think you would prefer to talk about your problems now. Ugh, fine -

* * *

You are not an expert on sports, but you reckon that two gigantic gyms are not exactly on the typical list of things that the volleyball team in high school needs. The same probably could be said for their very own dorms, a fucking canteen, four changing rooms, an archive, two bathrooms, a watching room, and the stadium. 

You are going to repeat that last thing because no, you didn’t stutter. Somebody build the motherfucking stadium just next door for them. 

Inarizaki is a school for rich-ass people, you know that, but there is a thin line between being loaded and being stupidly rich. Your school doesn’t share your thoughts and is perfectly fine with wasting an obnoxious amount of money for stupid shit nobody needs or wants. Who in their right mind would sponsor a stadium for teenagers? And yeah, Kita said other clubs used this stadium as well sometimes, but that doesn’t change a thing. 

Just _why_.

"It was a donation from one of the school's sponsors,” Kita supplies in what he has to think is a helpful tone. It’s not helpful in the slightest, explaining jack-shit and making you want to facepalm so hard. 

Your rub the side of your neck awkwardly, biting down your lower lip to stop yourself from cursing out loud. You truly can’t wrap your hand around it, feeling like you just entered some sort of stupid TV drama.

_The fucking stadium, y’all._

“I-I-I don’t know what to say,” you mutter. Growing up with Atsumu and Osamu is practically synonymous with _always has an answer for anything, but it's probably the stupidest one_ , and so, you feel very much out of your deep. 

“Then let’s go ahead,” Kita bobs his head, ignoring the issue entirely because he doesn’t care at all, “We still have an hour of practice. You should change and join us in the gym.”

Yup-yup, he doesn't. That’s as much a solution to your problem as throwing able-bodied young boys at the fronts of the First World War. It may work, but for what price? Price of your sanity it seems.

He points to changing rooms with his chin, gazing at you with way too big expectations. You shuffle awkwardly and take the key from his hand, walking in that direction while he proceeds to return to the gym with haste. 

You reach the black doors of the girls’ changing room and put the key into the keyhole. It takes you a second to turn it, as you have to practically wrestle your way in. You have to be losing your sanity and it’s the twins’ fault. They always have to get you into those sorts of situations, damn it. 

You exhale tiredly, feeling just like a convict that is about to embark on their death sentence if not worse. Those people can at least chose their last meal, while you are all out of the matcha Pocky sticks over there. With a little apprehension, you open the door and blink in surprise at what you see. 

Are you really still in school? Nope, no way. 

You are pretty damn sure that this is white marble you step on carefully, making sure not to slide or trip as you slam the door behind you. There are lockers, of course, but they look nothing like normal lockers, being more like big-ass white wardrobes with their own soft lightning. The shelves are full of white towels, and just above them hang washbasins and mirrors. You also notice a second door, most likely leading to one of the bathrooms. You will not even comment on couches and on what seems to be expensive clothing hanging on the hangers. 

Why does the boys’ volleyball club even need a girls’ changing room so huge? They don’t even have one fucking manager right now, the absolute losers. 

You plop back on what looks like a low couch and grimace. So this is where they cut costs, huh? You cross your arms, not really knowing what to do. Do they expect you to wear those clothes? You don’t feel comfortable doing that. 

A huff of air escapes your mouth, making your bangs float in the air for a second. You spin around and notice your pink bag with some clothes near it resting on one of the benches/discount-couches. You stand up and move, still carefully as her, towards it. You crouch down before it and take the clothes in your hands. 

Yup, you quickly ascertain that those sweatpants belong to you. You didn’t see them in a long time, as you left them ages ago at the twins’ house after one of your sleepovers. They never returned to you, but you didn’t really miss them. There is a monstrous quantity of your clothes left at Miya homestead, just like your apartment is full of theirs, after all. 

Yeah, your sleepovers tended to be very much unplanned. One second you were cuddling to only find yourself awake hours later with nothing to change into. Okay, okay, maybe _you_ had what to change into, even if the twins’ clothes hanged on you like on the skeleton. Osamu and Atsumu didn’t, not really, as your clothes were way too small for them even back when you were children. 

Not that Atsu didn’t try and completely destroyed your favorite shirt. You roll your eyes on the memory. You eventually did forgive him. After he bought you a monthly supply of matcha cookies, that’s it. 

So, the solution you all three came across early into your adolescence: The three of you just left clothes at each other's house. Truly, what a brilliant idea. It sucks that meant you probably had more clothes at the Miya’s than on your own apartment. 

Well, it means you at least have sports clothes now. You drop down to the floor, grimacing a little at the cold coming from the marble before you put the sweatpants next to you and take the top left for you. 

It’s not yours, though. You discern that it belongs to Atsumu if the cringy-ass, volleyball slogan is anything to go by. Tsu bought them back in middle school when he visited the Nationals for the first time. Your dear volleyball nerd used all of his allowances to buy those derpy tops. He then proceeded to ignore most of them, finally seeing how truly awful they were. Before he recognized that, though, those were good times for you and Osamu. 

You had so much fun seeing him in _Setter's Way_ shirt. You even got a photo of him in it somewhere. 

The idiots probably left this shirt in desperation, forgetting to take one of yours from back home. You prefer wearing their tops to the strangers’ anyway. The shirt will be a little bit over-sized for you, but it is not the first or last time you wear one of the twins’ clothes.

With that out of the way, you gaze at the last thing they left on the bench/couch. You frown as you are pretty sure that you never saw those shoes before in your life and you are somewhat of the connoisseur of shoes. You take them in your hands and notice that they are both cute and in your size. 

Did elves give you a gift? You leave them next to you and so reach for your bag, you stop, noticing a little paper. There is a little smiley face with googly eyes on it. Huh. You grab it, too much curious for your own good, and read the familiar-looking words quickly. 

_Dear Sunshine,_

_Please don’t kill me, I love you,_

_Atsumu_

_[Name],_

_Please kill Tsumu,_

_OsaOsa_

_P.S. This is the present from your bestest friend and Samu._

Good, old Cthulhu, you are going to cry.

You clutch the little note to your heart. That’s so unfair of them, really. A critical attack straight into your soul, you are going to die from sugar-like sweetness. You can’t deal with it, you can’t deal with it at all. Your teeth are going to end up rotten, damn it. 

A tear falls down from your chin. 

_Not now,_ you say to yourself, _Be still, you stupid heart._

Suddenly, you feel so warm and cozy, as if you were back home, in your bed, not sitting on some cold marble floor. You hiccup, as you take your time to look at their scribbled in hurry words. They are the only thing you can focus on for the moment. You breathe in, the air full of tender adoration and love, finding it’s hard to calm the beat of your heart. 

It takes you several minutes, but you finally move, hiding the paper in the little pocket in your bag, before you start to change into the makeshift sports uniform they assembled for you. 

Maybe, perhaps, you should give this _manager_ thing a go. Just give it a try. You would ultimately spend more time with two of your _bestest_ friends and no teacher could you attack you for not choosing a club. Kita also didn’t seem so bad for a half–robot.

But. But. But. 

The rest of the team.

And worst of all, the _work_. You are a lazy person. You like to sleep, lie around, and eat unhealthy food. There is no way you will be able to do everything Kita showed you managers are responsible for. You doubt there would be a lot of people to help you, and as sweet and infuriating twins are, you don’t want to take their time off the volleyball. They love this sport so much. 

No matter what you say, you love them. You want them to be happy. Volleyball makes them happy like nothing in this world. Your memories of them returning from every practice, smile on their faces, hands encompassing Mikasa or Molten balls. 

They always were so happy, talking about what they did, about serves, spikes, and sets. Loving somebody sucks so much. You want the best for them, you do. And they probably want the best for you. 

What is best for the three of you?

You just don’t know. What do you want? What is the best thing to do? Is being a manager the best route? It has cons, it has pros. You are not going to be comfortable for a long time, but if twins trust their team and if they like them, then- 

You groan. It is way too early to think about things! You are supposed to be stressing out about going to the gym to join the team! Not have heavy thoughts about your friendship and your future. 

You slip into your new shoes and fuck, they even have mismatched laces, the fuck, they know you so well, how are supposed to not cry? You hastily fix your hair and put it up in a messy ponytail before embarking on the Great Journey™. 

There are no dragons to slay or dungeons to loot, but it is equally as dangerous and treacherous. So, you take a deep breath and go. To that expensive, way out of high school’s league, gym. Even the door looks intimidating. You don’t want to enter this place, but you do that anyway, as quietly as you can do it with metallic, big-ass doors. The team seems to be practicing their serves (wow, you remember some volleyball terms, your friends would be so proud) and you nearly whistle as one of the balls slams the floor with the power of a nuclear bomb. 

It takes you a second to find that you are still alive, somehow. You pursue your lips and with soft steps, you try to sneak around the monsters on the court, doing your best to avoid being murdered by them. 

You notice that on one of the benches in the corner sits Kita and you hastily join them, deciding that enduring the presence of the boy beside him is better than death. Kita holds some sort of notebook from which he doesn’t look up from as you plop beside him on the very, very uncomfortable bench. 

"Date–san,” he greets you and lifts his eyes to look at you, “I’m comparing players’ statistics with their performance today. This is something coaches do, but because ours are not here today that would be manager and captain’s task.”

You lean forward to look at the notebook, noticing numbers and the column of names of people you don’t know. 

The boy beside him clears his throat and you raise your eyebrow at the cheerful looking fellow with spikey, black hair. 

"I’m Akagi Michinari, the team’s libero!” he introduces himself with such happiness that he has to be faking it. As you ponder the strange term he used, he leans through Kita to your side and whispers, acting like a special agent or something, “Are you really twins’ childhood friend?”

The urge to roll your eyes is too much. _You have to._ Does he think you are an alien they got from the Area 51 raid? You nod, having to bite your tongue to not say something very much vulgar and insulting. 

Akagi blinks in surprise. 

“I don’t know what is more surprising!” he exclaims, still smiling, “That they have any friend or that they have such a cute girl for a friend!” 

Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, fuck him. Your dear, dear friends’ characters are not bad at all. They can have friends. They can even have significant others! You smile sweetly, as you fight the urge to slam your elbow straight into his ribs.

Murder is not a solution, [Name]. Okay, that’s a lie, murder is always the solution, but you have to calm down because Osamu and Atsumu probably need him in the team or something like that. You shouldn’t get angry, so this is exactly why you are so fucking angry right now.

“Who are you talking about, Michinari–kun?” you feel yourself being brought into an embrace as a wild Atsumu appears at your side, “You can’t already be trash-talking your dear underclassmen to their adorable friend, can you?”

Yeah, you think as you lean into his touch, They probably needed him. Well, Chtulhu is on your side, as you did nothing bad to your dear, dear senpai yet. For now, you will just write his name, very carefully, into your memory. You know, just 'cause.

The little fucker seems to be a little bit lost, not knowing how to answer. Well, you shouldn't talk about somebody behind their back if you are not ready for them to attack you from nowhere. 

"He means you are garbage–man, AtsuAtsu,” you explain as you turn to look at him, “Sam-chan, on the other hand, is the best person born on the earth and I refuse to think otherwise."

Atsumu clicks his tongue. 

“As somebody who is living with him, [Name]-chan, I will tell you, he is not. He is an awful person who cannot clean after himself,” he sighs dramatically before accusing you without any evidence, “You only like him better because he gives you food.”

You will not argue with it. Only because you are a bigger person than, though. Yeah, you carefully try to avoid his gaze as he chuckles at you.

“Why are you not practicing, Atsumu?” Kita inquiries, without even blinking and you don't fight the smile forming on your mouth. Drag his lazy ass, king. 

“I’m making sure my precious childhood friend is safe and comfortable, captain,” he answers. There is fear clutching to the edge of his words, you notice, “She is an anxious person and I take responsibility, as a responsible person, for her well–being and happiness.”

What a load of bullshit. You stretch your legs, waiting for any rebuttal. Kita nearly-sighs again. He seems so old and tired. You really start to feel bad for him – he tries his best, it seems, but nobody can win with twins. It is still a mystery for ages, how is the world standing with them on it? And for long it will be here?

“Burn, loser,” you answer when the captain is silent, “You are still paying for dragging me here.”

He hums and rests his chin on your shoulder, seeing that the captain doesn't have the strength to continue pestering him. 

“What about shoes?” he looks pointily at your feet. Yeah, you already forgave them, but he can't know this. This is Atsumu Miya, the king of the mean, the emperor of terror. You are cheap, your highness, but not so cheap! "Do you need more, Sunshine?

“They can be at your face if you don’t offer something better.”

Akagi looks at the both of you with bewilderment, but you can't find it in yourself to care about him right now. Your worries are nearly gone with Atsu at your side. And, well, let's be honest, you already made a fool of yourself when you were cursing twins before, _so_. Who cares? Not you. Not anymore. Your friends have your back.

“Okay, okay, sunshine,” he sighs, “You can choose what we are going to watch tonight. But not Napoleon. If I have to listen one more time what a wonderboy he was I’m going to suicide myself by going into Samu’s kitchen.”

When you were ten years old and the twins were eleven, both you and Atsumu walked into the kitchen to make cookies for his younger twin, who was at that time sick. Let’s only say that when Osamu found both of you, the oven was destroyed, your kitchen was covered in dough, the fridge didn’t have a door, and both of you were crying your eyes out because your _cookies_ were not tasty.

Since then you and Atsu are legally (by the power of SamSam’s stinky eye) not allowed to go into the kitchen. Which is a real drag when you are living alone, but you know better than try to break one of his laws. _Suicide myself into Samu’s kitchen_ indeed. So you shake your head and jab him with a finger in the stomach, but he laughs your effort off, still holding you in his arms.

 _“Pride and Prejudice_ from 2005,” you decide effortlessly in retaliation, knowing he hates this TV show just as much as hates history. And yeah, his face is a wonderful sight for sore eyes and so you play a little bit more, relying on the character he hates the most, “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I miss you. Didn't see thee for so long.”

"I can be your Mr. Darcy,” he teases you and you roll your eyes at him. Where are your moans about how much Mr. Darcy sucks? “Say only a word, sunshine.”

Yeah, not touching it even with a stick. You pinch his cheek and he finally takes his arm from your head. He is so stupid sometimes. All the time. 

“So we will be watching Napoleon, thanks, Atsu,” you hum cheekily, “Good choice.”

You cackle at the face he pulls before you finally decide you had enough of playing hard–to–get. Yes, it’s a little bit of pity you will not be able to avenge your honor, but they bought your _shoes_. You can’t help it. You love them way too much. Without any further thought, you throw yourself at your friend, embracing him even more. 

“Thanks, AtsuAtsu,” you whisper into his hair, “But you are still an asshole.”

You missed him so much. He doesn't seem to mind your affection in the slightest, because he only ruffles your hair fondly. His arms finally reach for your waist, entangling your body in a well-earned hug. You giggle into his head before looking up. And welp.

You freeze. Damn. The menacing silhouette of his younger twin with death in his hand comes further. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sorry, AtsuAtsu, I love you, but SamSam never fucks around!_ Without any regret whatsoever, you tear yourself off and escape impending doom, leaving your friend to his misfortune.

“Stop harassing [Name], Tsumu.” 

_Boink_. The ball slams into Atsumu’s head. You are away from him, thank goodness, your head safe from the force of thousands of burning suns.

“Wasted,” you comment idly, hiding your mouth with your hand. 

“What the?!" Atsumu still has arms around the place where you were for a second, before he turns around, his hand automatically reaching for his head, "Samu! Don’t be jealous!”

“I’m not," Osamu deadpans and throws a second ball straight into Atsumu's face. You burst out laughing, but both Akagi, who was probably watching you and Atsumu cuddle, awkward, and Kita don't seem to be so amused by your antics.

“Atsumu, Osamu,” somehow, Shinsuke Kita sounds really threatening when his voice is as flat as the floor, “Stop joking around.”

“That’s Tsumu/Samu’s fault!” they retort at the same time and you titter at their stupidity yet again. They exchange heated looks that you know means there is a fight incoming. Well, well, well, you are always for the fight, but this time, you can't let them do it. You launch yourself at Osamu, taking him into your arms before they can start _miya-ing_ the whole gym.

You didn’t hug SamSam today enough and this is something you had to fix immediately.

“There’s three of them,” you hear somebody’s voice as your arms go around your friend’s body, “My god, there’s three of them. Run.”

That is the accent not belonging to the Kansai region. You blink as Zombie comes closer. His voice is strangely calm for one suggesting running away, but who are you to judge? Your answer to stopping violence is to hug somebody.

“Now, now, Rintarou, we lived through enough of the twins’ antics and they are really not so dangerous.”

Well, good sir, this is where you are wrong. Partially hiding behind the younger twin, partially hugging him, you scowl. You have to promptly ignore Atsumu’s _She's pouting, so cute_ , but you don’t mind that very much. 

“We should burn this school down, just because they don’t think we can,” you say before your mind tells you it is a bad idea and will probably produce an awful image of you to other people.

The man who called you not dangerous, the one with the darker skin you saw before, looks a little bit out of his depth, while the second one, Zombie, is the living personification of the words _I told you so_ expression. Just look at his smugness, just look at his arrogance. He has to know your twins very well.

“I'm in if you are in,” Osamu nods simply. Atsumu, who was angry a minute before, is at your side. He never lets the chance to burn something down, ever the arsonist, so of course he would join your stupid plan.

 _Everything is right in the world at least_ , you think happily, as they stand next to you, right where they belong.

“We should start with Takeuchi–sensei’s office,” the older one suggests, “I hate history.”

“Fuck off,” you react without thought, “You are just too stupid to understand it. And our history teacher is called Takaki!” 

“No, she is not, [Name],” informs you calmly Osamu, “It’s really Takeuchi.” 

Sounds like a lie, but okay, who are you to argue with him?

“You see? _Three of them_ ,” Zombie repeats to another boy in complete deadpan, before looking straight into Kita’s eyes, “Dear captain, please, return one of them. Or better, all of them.”

“Go away, Suna–kun,” Atsumu answers him, his eyes shining dangerously, “We are a deal package. You get one, you get all of us,” he smiles with his fake pleasant smile as he throws his arm around you which is awkward as hell because you refuse to stop hugging Osamu, “No take-backs.”

 _Suna? Suna? Suna?_ You raise your head, way too interested, but before you can ask, you feel Osa's hand on your head as he headpats you gently.

“That’s Suna Rintarou, [Name]," he hums simply, answering a question you didn't even have a chance to ask, "Yes, like _Suna-gakure_ from _Naruto,_ marshmallow."

"Thank you, Osa-chan," you whisper and send him a fleeting smile that is returned instantly, "You are the best."

Zombie looks at you with something unreadable in his eyes, which in turn makes you hold around Osamu thickens a bit. What is his deal? He really wants to fight, right? You will, you fucking will, just let you untangle yourself from Miya twins -

“Really, _Naruto?_ ”

You gasp, insulted. What is his problem with your precious _Naruto_?! 

“Excuse me? _Naruto_ is nothing short of an art and if you can’t see it, you fucking idiot, then- "

“Okay, okay, okay, let’s stop it before she will make all of us watch _Naruto_ once again,” Atsumu stops you in the middle of the rant, “And she will make you watch it, seriously, Suna, shut your trap.” 

Suna ignores you both and looks at the captain again.

“Kita–senpai, I plead again, return all of them from where they came from.”

Kita stands up and all of the chaos disappears, like, with the touch of a magical wand. There is something about him, something really scary, and god, the way they react to this boy is not questionable at all. That would normally make you question your sanity, but Kita is a naturally scary person, so you don't.

“Calm down,” so saith the Lord, so saith the Lord, “Osamu, Atsumu, stop wasting time. Date–san, stop indulging them, they are not little kids. Rintarou, stop trying to throw them out of the team, we are not doing it.”

He does his thing. Nearly sighs, but this time it seems to be something deeper, making you think of a disappointed father of five. Maybe he is one because it seems like it from the way he is treating everybody on this team. And from the way they react to him – a lot of respect. It is so rare when Osamu and Atsumu respect others.

That’s – _That’s really nice._ God, Kita is such a good person. You are so happy he is in your friends’ life, even though they probably don’t deserve him at all. You change your mind again, you would totally marry him. Haha, sikes, as if he would like to marry you. 

Maybe being a manager for a team with such a capable captain would not be _too bad_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: is a nervous wreck  
> Kita: already signing adoption papers  
> Suna: Oh my god.
> 
> The unreliable narrator is one of those really fun things to write. Atsumu giving Reader his shirt to wear is a little bit more than “hey, we forgot to take [Name]’s top, so let’s give her ours”. He is a manipulative little bastard and for once, Osamu didn’t fight him too much about it (they played rock, paper, scissors over whose shirt it is gonna be, and nearly killed each other when Osamu lost lmao).
> 
> Thank you for the kudos! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!
> 
> The chapter was edited on 17.01.21.


	3. In which you don't say no (maybe somebody will lend you a time machine to change that).

You rhythmically tap your fingers against the bench, your eyes trained on Osamu’s silhouette on the court. The whole gym is full of players from all years, but you don’t care about any of them, having eyes only for your dear friend. 

Atsumu nudges you with his head and a shiver runs through your body as his blond hair tickles you. 

“Sunshine,” he drawls the word, trying to get your attention. You scoff, reaching with your hand to pinch his cheek, “[Name]-chan, it’s not fair-” 

“Simp,” comes the lazy comment of Zombie who rests near you, his face planted straight into a wooden bench, “You are too embarrassing to even look at, demon.” 

“You are talking as if you didn’t come running every time Aiko-chan calls you,” the blond snaps back, raising his head from your shoulder. Okay, you are lost already. Sighing softly, you look at Atsumu with the corner of your eyes and notice how pink his ears look. 

“I never run,” Zombie of the Suna-gakure replies dryly, “Too much effort.” 

Atsumu huffs at the exact same moment as Osamu leaps, the ball already spinning in the air. You ignore the scuffle, way too invested in Osa’s victory than in a stupid, stupid argument that doesn’t have any sense. 

You like watching Osamu training, you decide. The face he pulls makes you think of all the times you observed him in the kitchen. In the beginning, he was very much frustrated when the rice ended up way too soggy or burnt, but every time he entered the kitchen, this happened way less and less until it stopped happening. 

He didn’t stop focusing in the kitchen, though, his face always shifting, in the same way, it looks now: eyes scrunched with effort, brows furrowed and his lips curled into the thin line. It didn’t matter if he was making his favorite onigiri or played the game he and his twin loved so much. He always looked so concentrated that it made you appreciate anything he did much more. 

It’s strange to feel grateful toward things like cooking or volleyball, but you were really, really happy that both he and Atsumu found passion somewhere. And it was even healthy unlike their other passion for the fire. 

As far as you are able to tell, the silver-haired’s ball hits the boundary of the court, but it’s not like you are professional. With that in the mind, you turn to Kita, the captain sitting just on your left side and dutifully doing the paperwork. 

“Kita-senpai?” you start shyly and when his eyes rest on you, you fidget a little before asking, “Does it mean that Osa-chan just got his ball in?” 

“When the ball hits the boundary line, it counts in,” Kita explains patiently before peering at his notes, “It’s eight out the teen for Osamu.” 

Atsumu groans, stopping his stupid shooting match. You clasp your hands, and beam as Osamu spins towards your direction and starts to head towards you, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“It’s raining simps, hallelujah,” Zombie sings horrible out-of-the-tune, making you cringe a little, “It’s raining simps ~” 

“Shut up, Rin-kun, or I will stand up.” 

“I’m so, so scared,” Zombie answers dryly. At your right, Atsumu’s lips form a scowl. You snicker at him, before raising your hand in the air and waving it toward approaching Osamu. He answers you with a small wave, as the captain of the volleyball team clicks his pen and notes his results. 

“Aran, you can go,” he instructs the dark-skinned teen. The boy, the one who called you not dangerous and who is not Edgar Allan Poe, places his bottle on a bench before moving towards the place of Osamu. The two share a fist dump before they go their separate ways. 

You can't help it, you start to list in your mind all of the restaurants you know before Osamu even gets here. Atsumu should know better, he really should just stay quiet. Well, there comes the first problem: Atsu never stays quiet. Good for you, but bad for him. 

You nearly jump up in fright as the ball that Allan serves nearly decimates the wall on the other side of the net. That’s shouldn’t be possible, and yet there you are. You swear you see even cracks on the wall. The older boy seems to be Japan’s super-secret weapon, not a teenager practicing volleyball.

“Aran is so cool,” Atsumu whistles from admiration as Osamu plops down next to him, “That’s our team’s ace, alright.” 

“Ace like in cards?” you question as you lean to give the younger twin a five-high. His palm hits yours before he intervenes your hands and squeezes it a little before letting you go. You giggle and he sends you a gentle smile. 

“It means he is our the best hitter,” Kita explains, not even looking at you, “Aran is one of the best wing spikers in Japan.” 

“Oh,” you nod, not understanding anything. You don’t know if Kita understands your confused gaze, but Atsumu totally does, as he snickers and flicks his fingers against your cheek. You hiss in pain and jam your elbow into the side of his stomach. 

“You are getting better, Osamu,” Kita praises, but even when he does so, it doesn’t sound like praise in the slightest. It feels more like he is just simply passing a piece of information, “You got eight of the ten in.” 

“Atsu–chan got fewer than that,” you add quickly, smiling mischievously. He shots you a look and you beam, knowing exactly what it means. 

Free food, free food, free food. _I'm a better twin_ , said the worst twin, you remember his words exactly, _If you serve better than me then I will buy you two whatever you want to eat._ You fight back the giggle. Well, Mr. Better Twin, eat your pride, because today you and SamSam eat like kings. 

You both high–five each other over grumpy Atsumu. Free food. _Free whatever you want._ Sushi. Barbeque. Ramen. Curry. _Okonomiyaki_. Who thought demons’ competitiveness would give you such a present today?

“I can’t wait for our dinner, Tsumu,” Osamu mocks him, “I think we are still not banned in Gin Sushi.”

Gin Sushi, huh? You place your finger on your lips, as you think about it. You don’t remember being banned by Mr. Gin yet, which means you are free to torture Atsu’s wallet there. You giggle, clasping hands in excitement as you look at Atsumu. 

He is pouting, the big baby he is and you giggle at him without any shame. He has to have the last word, of course, so he raises his hand. _Not again_. You see his hand close to your eyes and you instinctively close them, trying to protect them from assault. Your eyes are safe from his sweaty palms, but your forehead is not as he taps it harshly. You whimper before slapping his hand away.

“You didn’t have to tell it to Samu, you vixen,” he flashes his favorite smile, the fake one that he always shows to people who annoy him immensely. So, yeah, mostly to you and Osamu. You roll your eyes. You are not going to let him win.

“That’s the truth. The honest truth. The only truth that has been ever spoken in the halls of this school,” you counter sharply, sticking your tongue out of your mouth, “Do you want me to lie for you, Atsu? Not a chance, because I’m not a liar like you!” 

He reaches towards you and put his arm around your neck, pulling you to his chest and reaching to ruffle your hair. You see your hairband dropping to the floor and groan, placing your hands on his arm and trying to pry it off before he can cause even more damage to your beautiful, silky hair. 

Of course, you are not really his equal in strength. He chuckles at your vain efforts for several seconds before he stops. Using his distraction, you slide down from his hold through his knees and to the floor. With a mischievous snicker, you climb up to your seat and take it once more, crossing your legs and enjoying the domestic abuse the younger twin enforces on his older brother. 

You really, really love Osamu. 

“Don’t harrassing[Name], Tsumu,” the younger twin slams his hand against the blond’s neck, “You are so lame. It will not help you get better, you fucking loser.” 

There is no way in hell - 

Ow. You wince as Atsumu pushes against your fragile figure with his back as he attacks Osamu, trying to shove him off the bench with legs. Bastard. You find yourself clutching Kita’s shoulder, the gesture making you a blushing mess because truly, you are not comfortable with touching him so soon, but in war, you have to sacrifice your morals to survive the outgoing slaughter. 

“Go to hell, Samu,” Tsu kicks his twin aggressively. Huh, that makes you wonder, can you even kick somebody _not_ aggressively? “Mama doesn’t like you!”

Go big or go home, huh? You wince as he is going after wonderful, wonderful Miss Shouko. Of course, Osamu is not going to swallow such an insult. The silver-haired boy shoves Atsumu, trying to force Atsumu straight into _you_. 

“She doesn’t like you!” he snaps back, “She never did, but she is too nice to say so, you asshole!” 

The five-year-olds have better arguments. You are pretty sure that the five-year-old Miya twins had better arguments. You clutch the captain’s arm tighter, as Atsumu is pushed into your side. It is really fortunate Kita is much more powerful than you or both of you would lie face down on the floor already.

You wince as you feel the brown eyes belonging to the boy gazing at you. There is red dust of anger on his cheeks and you know that he will not tolerate whatever bullshit you are on much longer. You bemoan the fact that he was was strangely tolerant towards your shenanigans and all of his kindness is now wasted. 

_Congratulations, Atsumu, you did again._

You have to act before he can, saving the three of you from the lecture, so you do the first thing you ever think of. Slamming your most powerful weapon, your _elbow_ , straight into his Atsu’s spine. Try to ignore that, bitch. The blond twin shrieks, jumping in the air as the noise of the explosion once again resounds in the gym. 

You shiver involuntarily, taking your elbow away. Atsumu turns to you with a betrayed look on his face, but you disregard him entirely. As the ball nearly ricochets across the whole room, you think that you would not like to get hit with such missiles. 

Such a lame death is not for you. 

“Out?” you ask Kita awkwardly as your eyes follow the ball. He doesn’t facepalm, doesn’t sigh, doesn’t react in a visible, disappointing way.

You still can tell he is disappointed, though, but you are pretty sure it is not your fault. His _dad's aura_ is brimming with dismay towards demons. Thank Cthulhu, he doesn’t say a word and just nods at you. 

_Nods at you._

You want to giggle from a feeling that envelops your heart. Your feel your stomach fluttering. This is what old Wilbur and Orville had to feel in December 1903, having to invent the first functioning airplane. The achievement of the Wright brothers inventing is essentially the same as getting Kita’s approval on your scale anyway. 

You blush and avert your gaze, the embarrassment not letting you look at him anymore. _Sucks to be you, dad_ , you think pettily, _Guess who is just being a useful member of society and doing something productive at least? And you said that would never happen!_

It’s a little bit strange, feeling such pride for something so base, but you are not going to argue with your psyche this time. Helping the captain of the club instead of sowing discord around the world is truly a glorious character development on your part and you deserve a prize. 

Who would have thought? Definitely not your brother, that’s for sure. Your mom? Nah, you are pretty sure they didn’t think about you in ages. Maybe one of the twins? Nope, Atsumu used to say the best thing you will do in your life is help him pass the year, while Osamu just wanted to cuddle with you. 

So, so, you just exceeded everybody’s expectations. You cover your blushing cheeks with your hands. Feels good, man, that feels good.

“Out,” Atsumu, half-lying on his brother, answering. He probably didn’t see that Kita already answered your query, “Getting better at seeing lines painted on the ground, good job, Sunshine.”

His answer is appreciated, but his sass is not.

“Thank you, Atsu-chan,” you hum nonetheless as you notice that the team's ace takes another ball into his hands, “You are always so kind.”

“Not to worry, sunny,” he answers, wrestling his twin and trying to get dominance over him, “You know that I will always be there to help you as I’m better, made from sheer goodness and-” 

“Yeah, made from fucking sweets and flowers,” Osamu cuts in by slamming his elbow in his twin’s face, “Can you stop lying for a second?” 

“Get off me, Samu!” comes the muffled voice of Atsumu, "You jerk!"

“No,” is the only answer his twin graces him with. Atsu yelps and launches himself at the silver-haired boy again, re-starting their stupid, stupid fight once again. You hum, way too used to it. There was not a day in your life in which the twins did not fight about something dumb. 

You swing your legs back and forward, dropping your hands from your checks and returning to observe the gym. You are not really sure how many people are on the volleyball team, but you can easily guess it’s a lot by simply looking at them. There is nobody from your class, you think, but your memory for faces and names never was the best. 

There is no way you would be a good manager for so many people.

You bite down on your lip as you take in everything that is happening. The pungent smell of the detergent hits your nose as the shoes of the team’s members cracks against the floor, as the balls bounce through the walls. You hear laughs and teasings, the drum of the well-oiled machine of the team of people who know each other.

A knot around your neck tightens. 

You never truly belonged to a place. 

Your own family didn’t want you without your voice. People in your previous school tormented you. Your former clubmates from the choir treated you as a nuisance. In your life, you only had Atsumu and Osamu, and that was enough, that is enough, that will be enough, always and forever. 

There is always a but, isn’t there? 

So, this is yours. Humans, you know, humans are greedy creatures. It’s easy to see, because they take and take, and take until there is nothing left. They always want more and you not different. You thought it would be enough to just live, to just take this chance and try to leave your shell. It’s not. Fucking hell, it’s not enough. 

You want to belong. You want to have what they possess so effortlessly. You want true friends, companions that will talk with you and laugh with you - not at you. You want to gain people you can trust and then, maybe then, Osamu and Atsumu will finally become free. Because more than anything, you want that. 

“Hey, Atsu-chan, Osa-chan,” you start as you put your hands on your lap and clutch them tightly, “Do you think-” 

You cut the question in the half, suddenly becoming very much unsure, as the voice in your head becomes louder and louder. The noises of the struggle disappear as the twins lift their heads at you at the same time, waiting for you to continue. 

Your brother’s grinning face haunts you even after all those years. 

“Nah, not important,” you finally decide, dropping your head, “Go back to being morons.” 

You should know better. There is no fucking way they will return to fighting, now that you reminded them you exist. They both stand up from the bench and Osamu takes a seat just next to you, placing his own palm a top of yours while Atsumu crouches down in front of you, his hands touching your thighs gently. 

Zombie goes _Simps_ one more time, but they both ignore him, their eyes - so similar, and yet so different - trained into you. You made them worry again, didn’t you? A bitter smile grows on your face, causing Atsumu to squeeze your leg.

“Wait, sunny, you know you can talk with us about anything, right?” he questions, his golden-like eyes serious, “Did somebody hurt you? Did somebody tell you something? Just say their names, and I will take care of those scrubs.” 

“Forget Tsumu,” Osamu shakes his head, “Is something wrong, darling? Do you need any help?” 

“I-I don’t know, ugh,” you finally break down under their scrutinous glares, “I just - I want to spend time with you two, okay?” 

Ha, sikes! You are not going to tell them the truth, you know better. They will never leave you alone if you say you are considering becoming the team’s manager. This way, you can take their mind out of the matter and return to talking about the restaurants to visit, duh. That’s a double victory for you.

You lift your head and smile shyly at them. 

“Too damn cute!” Atsumu screams out and you blink as the curse escapes his mouth. He takes his hands away, using them to cover his blushing face and you tilt your head, not sure what the fuck he is on. 

Osa takes hold of one of your hands and squeezes, ignoring his twin without a problem. You decide to follow him in that matter, leaving Atsumu to his own devices as he rolls around the floor, causing Zombie to finally lift himself and start - start - filming him? Well, Kita doesn’t even look up from his notes. 

“You always can spend time with me, fuck Tsumu, we don’t need him,” Osamu tells you gently. He squeezes your hand again before starting to play with your hand, interlacing your fingers with his, “We should go to the karaoke again.” 

You wrinkle your nose at that. You like singing, truly you do. You liked to sing even more so in the company of the people you love, instead of doing it on the scene, facing a large audience. Osamu and Atsumu would never say a bad thing about your voice, after all, even though you both gave them a lot of grief. The problem is-

Well.

You are banned in a lot of places. You don’t deserve such treatment, really, it’s completely unfair. The last time you were at karaoke you were not banned, surprisingly. No machines were hurt, no bones were broken, no buildings were set on fire. 

Instead, you encountered the group of girls who were delirious enough to believe that twins’ attractive looks meant they were nice people. This expression lasted only for about five minutes before Atsumu called them ugly cows. Osamu didn’t help as he named them in a perfectly kind manner _bitch–chan_ or _whore–san_ after they introduced themselves. 

You were quickly asked to leave the premises of the building, leaving you with only one coherent thought: _Yeah, both of them will be singles forever._

Still, not banned! That’s some silver lining. 

“Nah, don’t wanna hear Tsu’s awful singing in this life again, thank you,” you inform him instead of saying what’s on your mind. Osamu nods slowly before batting his eyes at you, asking what do you want to do, “Sushi Gin?” 

“Sushi Gin,” he agrees easily. Osa, without much thought, kicks still rolling Atsumu, causing him to stop, “Heard that, walking wallet? We’re sushing.”

“No, go away,” Atsu responds maturely, before pointing his finger at you from the floor, “We all know you are the worst at singing anyway,” he teases, his lips twisted in a cocky smile. 

Sometimes you think god didn’t give your strength since he was afraid you would murder half of the human population. A certain twin would be very first on your list. 

“Asshole,” Osamu narrows his eyes on his brother. You nod, shaking your head with disappointment, “I don’t want to hear that from you.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Samu?” 

“Gremlins,” you comment dryly before you direct your gaze to the court, ignoring him with a huff. Allan or Aran takes another ball in his hands and slams it against the floor, making you really happy that you are not on the said floor. 

_Or maybe they are goblins_ , you wonder before you feel yourself being attacked again, as both of the twins start ruffling your hair. You chuckle at the chaotic affection, even as you are sure that your hair is slowly dying. Of course, they were able to collect themselves only to fuck with you.

Anyway, the third ball spikes by Ojiro hits the ground. It seems to be in. You are not sure. You wrinkle your nose. Don’t people shout something when the spike is done right? Maybe? Nice - Nice, nice, nice? Nice. Something with killing. Or murder. Or dying in general.

“Nice kill, right?” you try, asking the captain and he affirms it with a nod, so you repeat it a bit louder, “Nice kill!”

“I would do it better," Atsumu just can't help himself, he has to behave arrogant jerk as takes the seat next to Osamu, “You should see me, sunny.” 

“I saw you, dummy.” 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Sam adds, yawning. Well, at least he is here to destroy his pathetic attempts at making himself feel better.

You hum in content, ignoring the twins, and observing the dark-skinned boy next serve. As far as you are able to tell, he is good, but you should expect it from somebody called _the ace_. There is a small part of you still that thinks quietly Osamu and Atsumu are better than him, but you are pretty biased about them. 

“Aran is one of the best spikers in Japan from High Schools," Kita tells you, completely ignoring twins, "The three best in the country are Kiryu Wakatsu from Mujinazaka, Ushijima Wakatoshi from Shiratorizawa, and Sakusa Kiyoomi from Itachiyama. Both Aran and Bokuto Koutaro from Fukurodani are just behind them."

If he thinks you know any of those people, he is really, really wrong. You never really heard about any of them and you are so not going to remember so many names. Maybe Sakusa? You swear Atsumu was once talking about him, but AtsuAtsu talks about many things. You throw him a questioning look.

"You look like a bunny,” he comments instantly and you raise your hand in a threatening manner, causing him to surrender, “Wait, don't hit me, I will tell you about them," he sighs and you lower your raised hand innocently.

"Ushijima is the best," Osamu interrupts which makes Atsumu yell insults at him, but your favorite friend ignores him, "My hand still remembers the pain from receiving his spike. He is a monster."

"You are just weak, Samu," Atsu advises him unhelpfully, "But yeah, everybody but _Sakusa-kun_. He can go straight to hell."

_You should take him by the hand, then, AtsuAtsu, because this is where are going as well._

“You are still salty over that time he got more service aces than you in the third year?" Sam sounds like he doesn't believe in the sheer audacity of Atsumu, but let's be honest - there is no way he can't believe in the insolence of his twin, "Go figure, salty little bitch."

"What about the third one? And that one is as good as-as-as-as- Edgar Allan Poe-senpai?" you inquire curiously. Okay, you are not really curious, you are bored, "Did you have matches with them?"

Yeah, you already don't remember their names. You are not ashamed of it at all.

“It’s Ojiro Aran, [Name],” Osamu informs you helpfully, as he leans at you. You don’t promise you will remember this name, but you smile and headpat him, “Not with Bokuto, only heard about him. They say he is even worse than Tsumu with his moods. I doubt that though."

 _Worse than Tsumu?_ No fucking way. Nunu, that's too scary to imagine. You don’t want to entertain such though. Atsumu is whimsy and moody. Who can probably even compete with him? 

"You are right," you bob your head like one of those figurines you were too poor to buy, "Nobody is worse than Atsu."

“You two are literally the worst,” Atsumu sighs dramatically, shaking his head with fake disappointment, “Why am I even talking with you two?"

Osamu glance at him with badly-hidden disgust. 

"Because nobody else wants to?"

There they go _again_ -

Well, you didn't hear anything about one of those prodigious players, but it's really strange Osamu and Atsumu are not among them. Yeah, the blond one is a setter, not a wing-spiker or whatever, but he is still very good. He is also able to change his volleyball-role or whatever you want to call it! 

Osamu should really be next to Ojiro. Okay, the dark-skinned boy is really, really good, but so is your Osa! Whoever made this list? You want to talk with him. Kindly. With your fists. Also, if somebody asks, you are not biased towards twins. You don’t love them at all. You bite down on your lip. So, if those people disappear, your friends can be called the best instead, right? 

You don’t cackle evilly. You don’t. 

* * *

The volleyball practice goes, and goes, and goes, and really, it is never going to end, is it? You find yourself yawning more and more as time continues. You are not exactly bored, spending all of your time with your friends and well, pretending to be helpful. 

Yeah, the building is not on fire yet. 

You count serves with Kita, hand somebody a towel, and even shout _nice kill_ one or two more times. Those words make you happier than they really should do, but how many times can you tell somebody the way they killed something is really cool out of a video game without sounding like a psychopath? 

Yeah. So it’s really fun, even if you don’t know all the players. It is your own fault this time. Kita names every player, but you are just not capable of remembering them all in one go. You know some of them, though. In no particular order, you remember: 

Ojiro Aran or Edgar Allan Poe, mostly because he is the ace or whatever, and he thought you didn’t look dangerous. Well, if you want to use stereotypes, then you can call him half-Japanese because of his darker skin tone. You don’t know where he is from, though. Maybe he is American? That’s would _cool_. 

Akagi Michinari, the libero, because the word means _free_ in Italian. You remember him mostly because he is on your shit list. People who ask if you date twins always end here. He also looks cheerful, way too cheerful to be real. You don’t trust him in the slightest. 

Suna Rin-Something, because _Naruto_ and zombies, duh. Ninja zombies? Sounds cool. He was the easiest one to name, even if he doesn’t look like any character from anime you love. Okay, he makes you think a bit about Sasuke Uchiha, but there is no way you will tell him this because that sounds like a compliment. 

Not going to compliment the enemy! That’s all of them. Yeah. You are disappointed in yourself. Or you would be, but really, you don’t care too much. You can’t place names next to faces other than for those three. 

Kita also lists Omimi, Ginjima, Kosaku, and several other names you don’t even try to follow. You are still not good at that whole people thing, and yeah, you don’t exactly care to remember more than five names. It’s simply too hard and you are too lazy. 

After every member gets their serves done, Kita divides club members into teams and they start little matches. You observe them, a little bit bored because you still don’t understand the rules. Things change when your friends step on the court. Their game is much more interesting than the others and you are not sarcastic about it. 

As your friends, they will always be above the masses for you and it shows because their match is so much more interesting. Somehow Osamu destroys the ball on Atsumu’s face even when they are on the same team and it causes the game to descend into total havoc. Sir Kita has to step in and stop them before they demolish the whole gym. 

Apart from that one accident, nothing super extraordinary happens. You enjoy yourself nevertheless, because - well, you would lie if you claimed you didn't like the way they played volleyball. You don't really know why you love watching them play this game so much. It just makes you so, so happy you feel like you are about to dance. 

It always did. 

Even back in the days the three of you ruled over the playground as its rightful sovereigns it was really enjoyable to see them so happy. You didn't play, of course. At that time you were very busy sitting on the slide and commanding your kingdom. Somebody has to take care of the economy, after all. 

There is embarrassing truth: you used to skip choir practice in order to watch their games in middle school to your parents’ disapproval. Not that you cared much about their opinion anyway back then and while they didn’t play a lot last year, too busy with, well, you, you still made sure their matches were recorded and gifted to you. In your sunless room, they were your respite. 

If you had to give it a name, you would call them just _mesmerizing_ when they play volleyball. They are so much more out here, dancers, masters of art, messengers of goddess Inari herself. Their movements are calculated, synchronized, yet wild and full of life.

You would like to see more of them like that. Not held back by you, not constantly worrying about you.

“For somebody so against joining our club, you seem to really enjoy watching volleyball, Date–san.”

Suddenly awake from your thoughts, you blink rapidly, turning your eyes towards Shinsuke. He is much closer to you than you anticipated and you are met with his shoulder instead of his head. You breathe out and take a moment to collect yourself, putting a distance between you and the captain. 

When you finally look at his face, you are not able to discern feelings that hide in his brown eyes. The tone of his voice, though, seemed to be warm rather than cold and scolding. You decide to smile shyly in the answer, lowering your gaze. 

“This is the sport that my childhood friends love,” you say, not stuttering. It’s baffling, really, as they are so far from you, “It’s impossible for me to hate it.”

It’s silly, really. You simply love Atsumu and Osamu and they both love this game, so there is no way you can hate volleyball. Their passion shines through every move in this sport and you can’t help being enchanted, completely beguiled by your friends. 

“I don’t think it’s only that, Date-san.” 

You are pretty sure it is. You fight off the urge to roll your eyes as he looks at your seriously, sounding way too honest. What is his goal there? 

“I wouldn’t probably even look at the court if it were not for Sam–chan, and Atsu-chan,” you shake your head, “How could I like something I never played before?”

“Did you even try?”

Strangely for somebody who is friends with volleyball nerds, you didn’t. The twins never forced you and well, you didn’t want to. Isn’t it strange that they didn’t? They asked once or twice and that was it. 

Nah, it’s not strange, you finally decide. If you think about it, it’s not really suspicious. Like, they always were strangely considerate towards you, never making you do something you didn’t want to do. Not when you were stupid children, not when you were less stupid teenagers, and not now.

“Nope,” you answer simply, shrugging your shoulders, “I mean, I didn’t. Never. Nada.” 

“Do you want to?”

With your slow reflexes and natural inability to do any sport? Haha, no. There is no way you are going to be good at this. You will never receive anything or make the ball go over the net. You just simply would suck at this. You move your lips to answer him, but you are interrupted. 

At the court, Atsumu smiles as he sets the ball. It comes in contact with Osamu, who spikes it through blockers. Both of them shout and cry like children in joy. 

“I will be awful at this.”

Rejection becomes an excuse. Kita smiles kindly at you.

“Everybody at the beginning is.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

_Do you want to play volleyball?_

The answer should be easy. Why is it not?

_Do you want to play volleyball?_

_[Name]_ , said Osamu years ago, _We will play volleyball, you should join us._

 _Play with us, play with us, [Name]-chan,_ begged Atsumu.

Your brother said you are too much of a tomboy already. _Sports are not for girls like you, brat_ , he explained to you, _You are the little lady of the family._ _You should not fight. People will do it for you. Just bat your pretty little eyes at them. Disgusting._

Your brother was (is) full of shit, you know it. Why did you listen to him back then, you wonder, Why did you agree with him? Why did you treat his words like a law?

 _You will not be good at them, [Name]_ , his voice haunts you (and then, there is another, and another, and another, and another), _You are not good at anything. They are just acting kind, afraid to hurt your fragile heart._

Do you have to be good at something to have fun? You think of you and Atsumu, creating little figures from plasticine, smearing it all around the room. You think about you and Osamu, painting each other faces of caricatures of ninjas. You think about the three of you, doing all sorts of stupid things, being awful at everything you touch and still, smiling and laughing anyway.

_Do you want to play volleyball?_

“Yes,” you answer, a little revolution sparking inside your chest, “I think I do.”

Why should you care about words of this good – for – nothing brother of yours? Twins were always closer to you and they enjoyed volleyball. Why should they be angry at you for trying something they love (just like he was)? They are better than him in every way. Blood is thicker than water? Don’t make you laugh. Atsumu and Osamu deserve the titles of your brothers way more than him.

“Will you become the manager of our volleyball team?”

Doesn’t he know already? He totally got you, hook, line, and sinker. It is strange how persuasive he is for somebody cold, but Shinsuke Kita surprised you many times today already.

He knows you will enjoy being the manager's team (he knows how much twins will enjoy your companionship), so he doesn’t care how much you will suck at this. He is so kind, so kind. Atsumu and Osamu really made a great friend. 

You wonder if they know how lucky they are. 

“Of course I will,” you sigh, “You are very manipulative, Kita-senpai.”

The game on the court continues. The decision is made. The world goes on. You and Kita exchange smiles and you feel a strange, fragile bond just forming between the two of you.

* * *

You know better than wish to change the past. Even if you stopped the World War, you would just fuck over with technology and studies, as awful as it sounds. There were a lot of things found out during the times of the war, mostly because of necessity. So, yeah, you don’t want to really go back in the past. 

Okay, maybe if somebody proposed to you to go and stop the Ides of March, you would totally be up for that. There were way too many coincidences during that day anyway, and maybe, just maybe saving Caesar would just mean that stupid Octavian August would never get to power. Octavian August sucks so much. 

The thing is, you never wanted a time machine until now. Why? Well, because you should have said no. Why did you agree? Why didn’t you just escape at the first opportunity? Why are you such a wuss? 

“Atsu-chan, Sam-chan,” you moan is so muffled you have trouble hearing yourself, “P-please, I can’t breathe.” 

_Dear Lord Lucifer,_ you say in quiet prayer, _Could you please send me a time machine? Or make this apocalypse thing happen to like, right now? It would really swell, you know, okay? XoXo, your girl, [Name]._

Currently, you are being smothered to death. Not a very cool experience, don’t recommend it at all, two out of ten, will not do it again if you will survive this ordeal. Who are you kidding? You are not going to survive. Date [Name], died at the age of fifteen, cause of death: strangulation. You hope they will at least find your body and film a nice documentary about the mystery of your death. 

Only you really, really don’t want to die in such a lame way. You want to go out in the bang! Not like that, pretty please. 

“Osamu!” you shriek in desperation, trying to hit them, “Atsumu! Let me go!”

They don’t let you go. _Of course_ , they don’t. 

“I swear I saw this simpery before,” you recognize Suna’s voice, but you cannot even react to him, because you are being squeezed out of your life, “Definitely.”

You didn’t think he would help you, but still, he could at least have the grace to stay quiet. This is the exact opposite of being helpful. He is practically torturing you with them and you hope they will find him guilty of being an accessory to your death. He will not get a death sentence, but at least he will spend those ten years in prison. 

“Do you think we should help her?”

Yes, please! Gods, thank you for creating Ojiro Aran on this planet. You forgive him for understating you, you will delete him from your shit list, and you will praise the earth that he walks on if he only helps you. 

“Nah,” comes the lazy answer of Zombie, “I’m too busy right now.” 

Too busy with what? Breathing? Fucking Naruto–wannabe. _[Name] is going to remember this._ You hear the shuffling of the shoes as more and more people leave, without even saying goodbye. They leave you to death and don't have any decency to listen to your last words, fuckers. 

“[Name],” you hear a whimper in your ear. You recognize the voice of Osamu easily, even as teary and raw as it is, “Marshmallow, darling, you agreed, you said yes and - fuck, [Name] - I - we - “ 

“We’re proud of you, sunshine,” the raspy voice of Atsumu ends the sentence, “You-you-you really did that. Welcome _back,_ [Name]-chan.” 

_Oh._

Of course. 

Something like regret, something like grief, something like guilt flows through you, making it even harder to breathe as their voices, full of emotions echo around you. They were really worried, weren’t they? You made them so, so worried and you can’t help and hate yourself for that, just a little bit. They deserve so much better than you.

Your hands clutch the fragments of their shirts. You don’t push them away, instead, you bring them closer into the embrace.

“I’m sorry, Atsu-chan, Osa-chan,” you whisper against their chests, “I know it took a lot of the time, but I’m back home, with you.” 

“It’s okay,” Osa answers instantly, without any hint of hesitation, “If I had to, I would wait a million years and that wouldn’t be a sacrifice at all, so don’t even think that, darling.” 

“Talk about yourself, Samu,” Atsumu disagrees, “I would drag you out, sunshine, kicking and screaming, just like I dragged you to the club.” 

“You are such a liar, Tsumu.” 

“You are both dumb,” you decide gently, “I love you both very much, you know?” 

They don’t answer, though you feel one of their figures shivering. You can’t help but let a little noise escape from your throat as you bring them even closer, wanting to share the warmth of your body with them. It’s not a lie. You love them so, so much it hurts, even if they are stupid morons that one day will end this planet. 

You feel something wet on your cheek. It’s not raining, you are pretty sure, so, are those _tears_? Are you stupid, lovely friends crying because you agreed to something so trivial, so stupid, so easy? Yes, you think, they actually are. 

“Are you crying?” you question them softly as more and more tears end up on you. Atsumu’s answer comes way too quickly to be truthful. 

“I’m not.”

You roll your eyes. He totally is. He always was a crybaby, stupid Atsumu. You thought he got over it, but nuh, here he is, crying because you have said something dumb again. Gods, you love him so much, you think you would give him the stars if they asked. And the same goes for his stupid, stupid brother. 

Though, you would totally complain about having to somehow make a plan on how to carry a luminous plasma that is held together by gravity alone. 

“He is,” Osamu says, selling his older brother without a second thought to the blond’s annoyance. 

“Samu, you jerk!”

You giggle at that. 

“Are you crying too, Osamu?”

“No.”

Their arms thicken around you. _Liar, liar, pants on fire_ , you intone in your mind, as the world around you seem to be burning from the heat, but you don't mind, finding the feeling so, so reassuring. But you still hate how can your happiness is dirtied by the guilt and regret in your chest, how the voices in your head still scream how pathetic you are and how doomed they will be for staying with you. You remember, you remember and still can't those memories. They still hurt, just like a razor held next to your throat.

They were worried about you so, so much. What an awful friend you make, to be so happy about that and enjoy this warm embrace.

“You are way easy to please,” you remark, your voice so sad you cringe internally as you continue, “Like, I only said yes to being manager, you know. I will definitely suck at it a lot and make your lives hell."

“I don’t care,” Osamu’s muffled voice responds sweetly, “It will be you. That’s enough.”

“Of course you will suck,” is Atsumu’s much colder answer, though he sounds like he is still crying, “You always suck.”

If you could, you would shake your head. But you are being choked, enveloped in the arms of your friends, so you don’t really know how to do that. Well, it’s not like you mind much.

“Don’t be such tsundere, Atsu – chan,” you chide him teasingly, “I know you love me just the way I am.”

You just would want a little bit more air, because you are going to die. You indulge them for several more seconds, before jabbing your fingers into their stomachs. Satisfying groans would echo if you were back in the gym. You are not, though. Like the awful person you are, you waited until practice ended and you all were back in your uniforms before announcing your decision. It was fun looking at them being so nervous. Your moment of fun was paid with your sweet, sweet air.

You breathe in, as they finally let you go. You would never think that such simple action could make you so, so happy.

"So, are we going to Sushi Gin?" you ask them, "I really want some nigiri with spicy salmon. Maybe California maki with shrimps, huh," you stop for the moment when no answer arrives, "I still remember you fucking didn't apologize to me, by the way. You never do, you little shits. You have such awful manners. Why do I always forgive you anyway?"

They don't answer, still recovering from your pokes. You can't help but roll your eyes at that. They are such drama queens, the both of them, no matter how Osa may claim his superiority over his more emotional twin. It's not even like you hurt them badly enough to behave like that. You sigh, peering at them once more and noticing something a little bit wrong. In a way, they don't look as if they are squinting in pain, but hiding their faces from you, because -

Sweet Lord Satan, they are not _recovering_. They are covering their blushing, teary faces. Even Osamu!

"You both are crying!" you accuse them, a teasing edge to your tone, "You are crying, crying, crying - Oh god, both of you are so lame."

"Those damn ninjas," you hear Atsumu's weak voice, "They are cutting onions again." 

“I can't believe they got us both," comes Osamu's equally frail answer. You giggle happily, linking your hands behind your back.

“You are too much, SamSam, AtsuAtsu," you tell them as you spin around, the setting sun just behind you, "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: is a nervous wreck  
> Kita: already signing adoption papers  
> Suna: Oh my god.
> 
> The unreliable narrator is one of those really fun things to write. Atsumu giving Reader his shirt to wear is a little bit more than “hey, we forgot to take [Name]’s top, so let’s give her ours”. He is a manipulative little bastard and for once, Osamu didn’t fight him too much about it (they played rock, paper, scissors over whose shirt it is gonna be, and nearly killed each other when Osamu lost lmao).
> 
> Thank you for the kudos! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!
> 
> The chapter was edited on 17.01.21.


	4. Interlude: Fangirling is Very Serious Business.

_Sara_ , her mom once said, _You have to trust your instincts._

Sara’s instincts are screaming at her to run and yet, she stupidly doesn’t. Her hand around the window’s handle is sweaty, but she does her best to ignore it and open the window, letting the fresh air in the otherwise stuffy classroom.

“I can’t believe nobody was cleaning there during the break. Ugh, it’s so filthy,” she hears Rui signing and turns around to see her brown-haired friend shaking her head as she stood on her tip-toes, looking at the dusty shelves, “Do you think we should report that to Kirigakure-sensei?” 

“Not really,” she answers, taking several steps away from the windows, “You know that he has enough problems on his head. He doesn’t think he can even make it to the Nationals at this rate,” she frowns, feeling pity for her teacher, “He sounded really broken about it. “

Rui snickers at that and Sara sighs as she reaches for her chair. She shifts a little before sitting down and crossing her legs at her ankles, waiting patiently for Rui’s response. Her friend takes her time, chuckling under her breath as she bounces through the room until she stands just across from Sara, her hands placed on the chair’s crescent rail. 

“Did he cry, Sacchan?” she asks, winking, “He did, didn’t he?” 

“Rui-chan!” Sara yelps with indignation, shaking his head, “I’m not giving you more material to the newspaper!” 

Rui dramatically spins the chair and falls onto it, her hand clutching her heart as she bemoans, “Och, Sacchan, how could you even think I would do something like that? I would never use our friendship like that.”

“Rucchan, you should join the theatre,” Sara pursues her lips, “I can’t believe you.” 

“C’mon, Sacchan, you know that I would never,” the brunette spins around, her nose scrunching, “But what will you do with the room? Are we supposed to clean it ourselves? You know that my allergy doesn’t exactly agree with those conditions.” 

As if to stress that point, she has to cover her mouth as the sneeze escapes from her lips. Rui groans loudly and whispers a quiet _Sorry_ as she reaches over to her bag to take out her handkerchief. 

“You should go so close to the dust, Rui-chan,” she chides the girl gently, more from worry than any sort of etiquette. 

“Yeah, yeah,” her friend waves her hand dismissively and Sara finds herself exhaling out again. Really, Rui could be so irresponsible sometimes - no, she could be irresponsible all the time. She knew the brunette liked to be careless, but that was hazardous for her health. 

She opens her mouth, ready to argue, but stops before a sentence forms in her lips. One shouting match will not change Rui’s behavior. No matter how much Sara wished it could. 

She frowns, focusing on the other matter entirely. 

While room number 309 never was quite a classroom as it used to serve as the conference room to the student council five years ago, the Committee proclaimed it their headquarters back when Sara was in the second grade. Since then, they have never were faced with the situation in which the room was left abandoned during the break. 

They couldn’t really reach the official channels for help and that was a problem. She sighs again as she takes in the whole room. While certainly, it’s possible for them to clean it, it would take several hours from their already busy schedule. She can’t ask others for help, knowing that most of the members have cram school after the club hours if they are not already busy because of their work like Endou or family responsibilities like Hoshino. 

“I will talk later about it with Kei,” she finally decides, placing her hands on the table, “He will certainly have a solution to our little problem.”

“Yeah, ask your boyfriend,” Rui throws her a smugly look over her shoulder, “Or, wait, maybe your boyfriend was Akagi-kun ~? I saw the two during lunch, Sacchan, to-geth-er ~ “ 

“Rui-chan!” she yells out scandalized, her cheeks reddening no matter how much she doesn’t want them to, “I-I’m not dating anybody!” 

Rui giggles.

“Not yet, you mean, Sacchan,” she teases, waving her finger around. Sara groans as she slouches her posture and lets her head fall face-down onto the table, “It’s a pity we can’t just talk about it with Kita-senpai. He would make all of our troubles just go away, poof.” 

“And you are not speaking like that only because you are a member of Kita-senpai’s Fanclub, Nakajima-kun, are you?”

Sara whips her head and hastily fixes her posture. She stiffens her shoulders and makes sure to hold her head high as the President of the student council enters the room, closing the door behind her lightly. Hoshino Kaguya looks as immaculate as ever with her uniform without crinkles even after a long day and no strand of her lavender hair coming out of her crown braid. 

“Never, Hoshino-senpai,” Rui answers, lazily saluting. Hoshino arches one of her eyebrows at that and the brunette puts her head on her hands, pouting, “Why does everybody think I’m corrupted? I’m not. I’m a professional, guys, I swear.” 

“Kita-san noticed you looking through the windows of the gym, Nakajima-kun,” Hoshino answers harshly as she places her briefcase on the table, “Be glad he didn’t recognize you, or I would talk with the Disciplinary Committee. How did you ever climb over so high?” 

“Rui-chan, you didn’t,” Sara whispered fervently. Her friend avoids her gaze, awkwardly looking to the side, “Tell me you didn’t, Nakajima Ruiko.”

The silence is the only answer she gets. Kaguya shuffles around before sitting down and taking her briefcase down after she takes her drink - an Iced Frappuccino - out of it. Sara has no idea how it survived the long way from the ground level to the room without staining her bag, but if somebody was capable of such a feat, it was Hoshino Kaguya. 

“She did, Sara-kun,” Kaguya responds when Rui stays quiet, “I talked with Sagiri-kun and he saw her.” 

“Little traitor,” the brunette mumbles under her breath, “You have awful taste in men, Sara-chan.” 

“Ruiko!” Sara shouts, feeling exasperation filling every cell in her body, “I’m not going to let this go! That is not how the Committee works!” 

“Oh, take this stick out of your ass, Sacchan,” Ruiko utters, shrugging her shoulders, “It was not the photo for my private collection, okay? I’m writing the piece about the volleyball team’s new line-up and my sources told me that Kita-senpai became the captain. About damn time, if you ask me.” 

“Rui-chan!” 

“Language, member Nakajima,” Kaguya takes a sip out of her frappuccino, “Nobody asked for your opinion.” 

“Mean, Hoshino-senpai,” Ruiko sighs, defeated as she looks over to Sara, “So, what is my punishment going to be, President Kizuchi?” 

The worst thing coming from having authority over your friends is the fact you have the power to hurt her. Sara doesn’t know how her father and mother manage to do that. She doesn’t know how people in the past, dictators, emperors, kings, used to do that.

She doesn’t think she is a good leader. Not really. If she was, she would not hesitate as much as she does hesitate right now. She takes a deep breath and composes herself, the mask of President Kizuchi on her face once more as she looks over to her childhood friend, the one who she knew for more than seven years. 

“We have to put you on the monitoring, Ruiko,” she tells her, her tone even and composed before she drops her gaze, “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, not the first time, not the last,” Rui waves her off, “Dontcha worries about it, Sacchan.” 

There is an awkward silence for the second and all of her fears come back to the surface. Sara feels guilty and she fidgets nervously in the way that would make her mother appalled. She really would hope that somebody could say anything, anything at all, but Ruiko and Hoshino stay quiet. Ruiko starts to play with her phone, while Kaguya continues to drink her coffee with the air of elegance Sara couldn’t ever hope to achieve.

Jealousy is an awful feeling, and when it mixes with guilt, it makes Sara feel quite miserable. 

“Kaguya-senpai, I’m glad you found time to join us today,” is what finally leaves her mouth. The older girl nods at her slowly, a little bit of cream left on her upper lip. She takes the handkerchief from her pocket and wipes it gracefully, “I know you had a meeting with the rest of the student council. I appreciate it.” 

“Well, it’s not every day we have an emergency on our hands,” Hoshino answers calmly, “It happened in your class, right, Sara-kun?” 

“I was one of the witnesses,” she nods stiffly, remembering the accident from several hours ago with a frown, “As was Minato-kun and Aya-chan.” 

“Akagi and Hayakawa, right?” 

“Minato-kun ~ “ Rui fakely coos at that, putting her head in her hands, “You mean your boyfriend, Sacchan ~”

“I thought that you had something with Sagiri-kun,” Kaguya scrunches her nose on those words, “Akagi-kun is not exactly somebody I would like to see in your company. He’s too crude.” 

“He’s not!” a blush appears on Sara’s face and she feels embarrassment fill her up as Rui snickers and Kaguya arches her brow. Sara looks around awkwardly, before finally muttering, “We’re only friends.” 

“Friends who want to hold hands and kiss each other. Platonically, of course,” Ruiko wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and the blush on Sara’s face deepens at what she suggests. 

She is wrong, of course, she is. Sara doesn’t have a crush either on Kei or Minato. Her crush was the same, after all those years. She is just, erm, appreciative of how they looked. Both of them are very attractive boys, and while Sara, well, _looked_ at them, she never had any sort of vulgar thought about them. 

The thing with Akagi is nothing serious, anyway. Just a little teasing, pull and push, the innocent flirtation that will not lead anywhere because Sara doesn’t want it to lead to anything. She doesn’t share Kaguya’s views on the boy, seeing him more like a playful, funny companion than someone crude. 

“Kei-Kei-Kei has a fiancee,” she stutters pitifully in her defense, “He met her several days ago and told me she was certainly charming.”

It broke her heart, just a little, but it’s not like he even promised her something. There was no confession, no love letter waiting for her in the locker, not even a softly uttered vow. They never held hands, never kissed, and their little outings couldn’t be called dates in the slightest. 

Sara may be infatuated with him, she may like him, but he is not the person she is in love with and he knows that. Her heart belongs to the man she would never have a chance with and that’s was fine with Sara. It’s not fine with Kei and that’s alright. 

“He is trying to make you jealous, Sacchan,” Ruiko is fast to assert, “Oh, I know boys like him, trust me. He is insecure. Oho-ho-ho, not nice, Sagiri-senpai, not nice, toying with a girl’s heart.” 

“I can say that my intended is charming as well,” Hoshino adds, putting her coffee down, “And yet, I have no intention of marrying him.” 

“So cool, Hoshino-senpai!” Rui coos, pressing her hands against her cheeks comically, “Tell us your secrets ~” 

Hoshino doesn’t snort, but her lips click in the clear distaste towards the scholarship student. Sara awkwardly smiles and that’s the exact moment that the door opens yet again. She raises her eyes and her smile becomes more genuine as she sees the rest members of the Committee.

“Good evening,” Kei raises his hand in the greeting, “Sara-chan, Okazaki-chan couldn’t make it, I will tell you her reasons later. Not counting her, though, we are all there.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she nods to him, her smile widening as she sees more people following after the redhead, “Please, take your seats. I’m sorry for the late notification, but I don’t think anybody could predict the situation we found ourselves in.” 

“Kizuchi, weren’t you supposed to transfer to Itachiyama?” Hibari questions, sliding after Sagiri into the room. Sara fights back a sigh that threatens to spill from her mouth at the sight of him, “What, Tokyo too good for daddy’s little girl? Not enough boots licked?” 

The worst of it is knowing that the black-haired boy doesn’t mean that. Not really. Or at least that's what she naively hopes. Hibari is just this way with everybody, not her. Even his fellow members at the Heckling Brigade weren’t spared from his vicious remarks. To be honest, some people adored him for that, though she will never understand that. 

“I’m never going to leave Inarizaki, no matter how much you try, Hibari-kun,” she doesn’t let him provoke herself, biting her tongue and curling her lips into a smile that's a little too nice to not be completely fake. 

“Can’t blame me for trying.” 

“I can,” Hoshino cuts in, narrowing her dark eyes dangerously at the boy. 

_There we go again_ , she thinks as the sweat drops out of her forehead. Rui rolls her eyes and she swears several people sigh tiredly, but Hibari doesn’t care. He will not leave such a blatant challenge to go unanswered. The fact it is coming from Kaguya, the one person who never tried to pacify him in any way possible only added oil to the fire. 

“Which is why you are the real witch,” he hisses as he grabs one of the empty seats and spins it around, sitting down and placing his head on the rail, “I’m going to celebrate the day you fucking die,” he adds with a smirk. 

Kaguya’s hand tightens around the coffee. 

“The Pink Emergency, right?” Ieyasu yawns as he plops down to his chair next to Kaguya, effectively ending the argument. The lavender-haired girl wrinkles her nose and shifts a little, trying to put distance between them, “You guys take these things way too seriously. Are we supposed to meet every time something like that happens now?” 

“Yeah, good luck that with the way Suna-senpai changes his girlfriends,” Rui snorts, bending to bring her laptop’s case from the floor. She takes it out and moves to launch it, “We will be meeting every Friday.” 

“But we are not talking about Suna-san there, Nakajima-kun,” Hoshino replies coldly, “I don’t think I ever heard even rumors of one of the Miya twins dating somebody, but that’s something we have this meeting to discuss,” she narrows her eyes, “What is exactly member Akagi doing with you, Vice-President Sagiri?” 

“There, there, calm down, Hoshino-san,” the boy puts his hands in the air in defense, “I thought it was important to have more than one witnesses of the accident. Some accounts may come off as too biased. That’s all.” 

She flinches at that, feeling way too hurt for such a small remark. She does her best to not look at him or Akagi, though, hiding her thoughts in her mind. 

“Don’t mind me, senpai,” Akagi answers cheerfully. Kaguya scoffs in the answer, turning her head away from him with disgust. Kei exhales loudly and Sara senses him shaking the head disapprovingly. 

She smiles awkwardly, waiting for everybody to sit down before she stands up from her seat. She takes a deep breath and her eyes peer into the members. She really didn’t expect a lot of people to attend this meeting. _How passionate we all are,_ she peers at Hoshino and Hibari, _Maybe too passionate._

If somebody told Kizuchi Sara that the first meeting of the year would take place on April the third, she would - well, she would not really laugh at such a person. This is not who Sara is, no matter what rumors go around the school’s dark corners. She wouldn’t believe in words like that anyway. 

The Committee, while not exactly an official organization, held the patronage of the Kirigakure-sensei. There was no way Sara would bring disgrace upon his name by organizing a hasty, messy meeting against the wishes of the rest of the members. 

While Sara held the title of the President of the Committee, she was elected in the fair, democratic elections. She was the voice of her people and she tried her best, even when she had to punish her own friends. 

The first official meeting was supposed to happen on Friday, but she made sure she talked with her club leader to make her absence be excused before arriving at the room designed to hold a Committee.

She claps her hands, the events of the evening still vivid in her memory. Every member of the Committee looks at her, waiting patiently for her words. People like Arasaka Ieyasu, the heir to the Arasaka Conglomerate, or Hoshino Kaguya, the niece to the current Emperor, looking at her, treating her like a leader. 

She clears her throat. 

“The first meeting of the Inarizaki Volleyball Team Committee in 20XX is in session,” she announces, “Presiding is Kizuchi Sara, the thirty-ninth head of the Committee, and Vice-President Kei Sagiri. Member Hoshino, if you could begin?” 

“Thank you, President Kizuchi,” Kaguya nods and Sara sits down as the girl stands up, “Hoshino Kaguya, the head of the Special Forces, on accident number 123447 which happened on April the third, year 20XX, in classroom 283 at the hour 15:34,” “Miya Atsumu, better know as an official setter in the line-up of current line-up according to the information the Unit possess, was found 

“The accident was witnessed by President Kizuchi, member Akagi Minato, member Hayakawa, twenty initiates, and three unassociated personas. It is said Miya Atsumu called he _r sunny_ and then proceeded to carry this person all around the school until he encountered Miya Osamu. Then she was pulled to the gym belonging to the team. She was later seen with Kita-san. The Special Forces reached the help of the Intelligence Unit under the member Rui Nakajima,” she nods at the brunette before she drops elegantly to her seat. 

Rui turns around her laptop, letting the other members of the Committee see the screen. It’s a student file and Sara can’t help but be glad that she doesn’t know how her friend got access to it. 

The photo of the student appearing on the computer belongs to the girl from Sara’s class, the one she remembers was eating snacks during lessons. She was sitting on the very edge of the class, her eyes reminding Sara of a scared bunny, as she nervously gazed at everyone. 

“Date [Name], fifteen eyes old, born of 5th of May, blood group 0. She attended Yako Middle School, the same school Miya Osamu and Atsumu were students at, though she transferred to Tanuki Free School in Kobe during her third year,” she recites dutifully, before she frowns, “So, that thing is actually interesting, you know? Cuz there is no reason at all for her to transfer to free school from what I was able to find because she remained in the same apartment, but she definitely did transfer! I thought it could be a case of bullying or something, but,” she waves her finger, “When I wanted to reach her former classmates I couldn’t reach anybody! I found out that some of them moved all the way to Hokkaido or Tohoku, or even abroad. So - “ 

“Can you just get to the point, Nakajima?” Hibari cuts in, raising his eyebrows, “I don’t want to hear about the geography of some whore. Did I really skip out on the football training for such shit?”

“Hibari!” Kaguya raises her voice, slamming her palm on the table and nearly causing her cup to trip, “How dare you to call your fellow student such crude-”

“So, anyway,” Rui interrupts before the black-haired boy can answer, “She is on academic scholarships, getting the maximum amount of points in Japanese, English, history, and social science. Currently, she is in the advanced class, 1-7.” 

“Doesn’t really look like much,” Ieyasu yawns again, placing his head tiredly on the table, “So, we don’t know if she is the girlfriend of one of them, right? This means I don’t have to worry about the shipping war at least for now.” 

“That’s not exactly right, member Arasaka,” Kaguya shakes her head as she takes her cup in her hand and swirls it around, still sounding angry, “One of the members of the Special Forces, member Himuro, heard the conversation between Date-san, Miya Osamu and Atsumu. She is supposedly their childhood friend.” 

“So it means the shipping war is about to start,” Ieyasu drops his head on the table tiredly, “Nice. Thanks, member Yaya.” 

“They wanted her to become the volleyball team’s manager according to my cousin,” Akagi wonders aloud and all of the members’ heads snap towards him, “Oh, excuse me for speaking. As some of you know, my cousin is Akagi Michinari–san of the volleyball club,” there is excitement over the name he has spoken, “He sent me messages over what happened in the gym. Miya Atsumu–san and Osamu–san introduced Date–san to the volleyball team as,” he stops dramatically as he looks over the room, “their manager.”

In contrast to what happened earlier, the room is suddenly _silent_ as all of them slowly take that information in. Even Sara finds herself unsure how to react to such information and she fidgets nervously on her seat. She knows - _she remembers_ \- the last manager of the volleyball club had. 

“The last manager of the volleyball team was Sasagawa Ryouna–senpai,” she tells the Committee’s heads, “She graduated the school and nobody took this position for nearly two years.”

Eyes sparkling like stars. Her hair, even though dyed, looked so natural under the sun. Her smile, always inviting. Sara felt like she could tell her everything - and in the way, she did, her only secret being the Committee. So many people cried during her graduation day, Sara being one of them. 

“President Kizuchi, do you know why?” Rui questioned with a scrunched nose. Sara shakes her head, placing her hands on her lap, “I always thought it was strange that our team didn’t have a manager. Not that we need one with Kita-senpai, of course, but - just strange, I guess.” 

She always thought that simply nobody could match her level. 

“I do not,” she answers, the lie burning on her tongue, “She never trained anybody to take her space and I assumed this was why.” 

“The former head of the Intelligence Unit, Sasaki–san, told me it was because of the Committee,” Kaguya supplies easy enough, “Nobody in school dared to, afraid of retaliation from the Heckling Brigade,” she pointily looks to the Hibari, who scoffs. 

“Well, this school is full of fucking stupid idiots, what would you expect,” comes the crude reply of the black-haired boy, “We would show a manager nothing but respect as long as they didn’t mess up with matches. If they do mess with them, well, then they can get lost like useless pieces of crap they are.” 

“Are you talking about yourself, member Hibari?” 

“Bitch.”

“Anyway,” she inserts strongly, “That doesn’t help us in the slightest. We still don’t know Date-san’s intentions and - well, what do you think we should do?” 

“Didn’t Sasagawa-senpai have a Fan Club, just like all of the members of the official line-up?” Kei questions, “Should we do the same? I mean, I know that the heads of the departments are part of the fan clubs and will not really have time to take care of another one.” 

“I can definitely put out the list of the people,” Rui informs them, “If you want somebody up, I can get you, somebody, in ten minutes top,” she shrugs, “I’m the head of the Intelligence Unit, duh, that’s at least I can do.”

“That would calm down people on the Shipping Corner,” Ieyasu admits, “I’m in. Everything so Awano doesn’t come crying that her fanfic about the new girl is not going to be published.”

“I’m not against,” Kaguya informs them all, “Nothing is unsettling about that Date-san, even if her past is a little bit mysterious. I doubt she is a spy or somebody intending to hurt the Committee.” 

“Well, she is pretty cute,” Kei agrees lightly. Sara’s heart skips a beat at the admission and she has to take a deep breath to calm herself as he continues, “Hey, maybe that could make more boys more active. That is not such a bad idea, I think.” 

“I don’t fucking care, fine, whatever, get her in,” Hibari sighs deeply, “But if she messes up, then -”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Rui snaps at him before she spins around to look Sara in the eyes. Her eyes shine mischievously, as she asks, “Well, President Kizuchi?” 

Sara clasps her hands to bring attention to herself. The members of the club, her friends, and colleagues look up to her in question, seeking guidance. She is not confident in what she is about to announce, not truly, but if it’s the way they want to go, then Sara is going to do her best to represent that idea. 

“Well then. With this I, Sara Kizuchi, officially declare the creation of Committee’s sanctioned Fanclub of Date–san from today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: is a nervous wreck
> 
> Kita: already signing adoption papers
> 
> Suna: Oh my god.
> 
> The unreliable narrator is one of those really fun things to write. Atsumu giving Reader his shirt to wear is a little bit more than “hey, we forgot to take [Name]’s top, so let’s give her ours”. He is a manipulative little bastard and for once, Osamu didn’t fight him too much about it (they played rock, paper, scissors over whose shirt it is gonna be, and nearly killed each other when Osamu lost lmao).
> 
> Thank you for the kudos! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!
> 
> The chapter was edited on 17.01.21.


	5. In which this manager gig doesn't start so well (it freaking sucks so much, you want a refund).

Some laws of this world are ancient and unspoken. You know very well that those laws should never be broken for the fear of the Lovecraftian monster awakening and eating the current timeline. Waking people up from their well-deserved sleep is one such law. 

You need your sleep, okay? You want your sleep. You are going to get your sleep, come hell or the high water, no matter how long this fucking ringing will persist. You reach to your blanket and throw it at your head, trying to muffle the sound. It doesn’t work, but you feel cozier. 

Did you forget to put your phone on silent again? Probably. That means jack-shit, though, let somebody else get it. Why is nobody getting it? Hello, Osamu, Atsumu, lazy sons of bitches, stand up, you are too busy right now -

Wait, you didn’t have a sleepover last night. You are the only person in your apartment right now if you don’t count that terrible spider that lives in your bathroom rent-free. You would rather not have him answer your phone, though, so you don’t have much of the choice. 

You groan loudly, lifting your head from the way-too-hot pillow, and reach blindly into the direction you remember you left your phone last night. Your hand grasps nothing. You moan loudly and open your eyes to the darkness of your room. Having a little choice, you scramble up and swing your left leg from the couch that serves as your bed, hitting with your foot the light switch. 

You blink rapidly, trying to get used to the light. It takes you a second, and then another to find your phone. Somehow, it ended up screen down on the floor. Well, fuck your luck, because it’s still working if the never-ending ringing is any indication. 

Gosh, you hate this sound so much, you hate to change it. At the time, you thought that setting your notification ring as Naruto and Sasuke screaming their names was super cool. Now, that is just irritating. You think you are going to have trouble re-watching Naruto now, which means you have to find new anime to obsess over. 

You scrunch your nose as you reach for it, screen still unbroken, and unlock it with your thumb. The hour looks at you mockingly. What. What sort of demon decided to wake you at six? Who is even awake at six when the lessons don’t begin until eight-thirty?! This is pure sadism and oh, you know, you know what sort of masochists/sadists would do that to themselves and you. 

You frown, the familiar feeling of anger settling down in your stomach as you look at your notifications and see the two unanswered phone calls from Osamu and ten unread messengers from your group conversation with the twins. Of course, it’s them. It’s always them. Who else could it be? Santa Claus? The sweet touch of death? You are not so lucky. 

You press your group’s icon, clicking your tongue in annoyance.

**you still owe us fucking sushi, Tsumu, you bitch**

**_The Better Twin (in your dreams lmao)_ **

_we are here_

_my little sunshine_

_sun of my life_

_my only enjoyment aside from volleyball_

_don’t sleep_

_I can’t get in to kiss you morning if the door is closed_

_get up_

_get up_

_get up_

_get up_

**_atsumu if you change my username again I fucking swear_ **

_wtf_

_itz sixz_

**_The Better Twin (in your dreams lmao)_ **

_Open the door princess_

**_atsumu if you change my username again I fucking swear_ **

_nopi_

**_your ONIgiri sucks_ **

_we have food_

As if on the cue, your stomach grumbles. You are a cheap person. Too cheap, probably, way too cheap. Murmuring under your breath, thinking of wonderful treats Osamu could cook, you stand up and start to make your way to the door of your apartment. 

Your laziness once more is defeated by your hunger. 

It’s a little hard to maneuver through the _organized_ mess of your apartment. It’s good you had enough hindsight to put all of your lego blocks in the chest in one of the drawers. You can live through stomping on your clothes and books, but lego blocks are deadly, lethal weapons that will help you to conquer the world one day. 

If there is something more dangerous, then it is only your shoes. Shoes are your favorite thing, which is why they are everywhere. _Everywhere_. On your washing machine, in your tub, next to your computer, and chilling beside your console collection. The worst offender shoey mess, though, is the little hallway just before your doors. Oh, that place is absolutely the worst. Cthulhu, you have to hide them somewhere at some point in your life, because you feel like getting to your door without tripping over them should be considered an Olympic discipline. One day, you swear you are going to fix that. 

However, today is not this day. 

You sigh deeply as you stumble to your current objective. You unlock the door slowly and peer through them before you open them more widely, inviting your definitely-not-the-guests in. The view of the twins greets you as they stand like losers at your doors for some forsaken reason.

It’s unfair how they don’t look to mind the hour at all. You know, of course, that Atsumu’s schedule always has him waking up early, but Osamu, just like you, likes to sleep in, and yet there he is, looking as if he doesn’t think obsessively about returning to bed. 

“Looking good, sunshine,” Atsumu teases you, taking one look at your messy bed hair. You stick out your tongue as he steps it, his hand moving to stroke your head before kicking his shoes off to the side, “Very hot,” he throws through his shoulder and grump. 

“Don’t want to be hot, just warm,” you retort dryly, “If you don’t like my Kigurumi you can leave.” 

He chuckles and then proceeds to completely ignore you, going straight to your room/living room. Osamu rolls his eyes and he walks in, his hands pulling you into a hug in the greetings. He hums lightly, putting his head in the nook of your neck and you embrace him, your hands coming to ruffle his hair. 

“You make an adorable unicorn,” comes the muffled voice, “Don’t listen to the idiot.” 

“I heard that!” 

“You were supposed to, Tsumu.” 

The soft click echoes as your doors automatically lock. You snicker quietly and Osamu pulls back, presenting you a brown paper bag.

“Food?” you ask hopefully and he nods, offering it to you. You hastily take it in your hands, bouncing a little on your foot from sheer excitement. A delicious aroma drifts from the back and you open it, peeking in, “What’s it, what’s it, what’s it? Osa-chan? Osa-chan? Osa-chan?” 

“Breakfast and your bento,” he says as he starts to take his shoes off, “Onigiri looks like deranged kittens, but I tried to do them without forms. Will do better next time.” 

“They don’t, they are the best kitten onigiri ever made,” you instantly inject, pulling the bag close to your chest, “You are absolutely the best, Sam-chan and I can’t thank you enough.” 

“How could you, sunny? I’m nicer, not to mention more handsome,” Atsu yells as he slides into your room. He probably wakes your neighbor from the above with that vocal volume and that, honestly, makes you unreasonably happy. Get rekt, Mr. Yoshida, “Osamu, on the other hand, is just a scrub-” 

“I will remember those times the next time you come to me, crying about tripping in the hall before your _fans_ ,” Osamu retorts sharply in his general direction. He takes the recklessly abandoned shoes belonging to Atsumu and places them somewhat nicely next to his. 

“Fans?” you tilt your head and then repeat, once more, but much louder, “Fans?” Osamu nods as he moves to your kitchen, switching the light mindlessly. You skip after him, thinking about _fans_. You thought your school has air conditioning. Why would they need fans? 

“Some poor people think he is _cool_ and _mysterious_ ,” Osa puts his fingers in the motion of air quotes, “They are probably delirious and in need of medical attention.”

_Oh, fans like that._

Your lips curl into a frown as once again you feel shocked at the casual reminder that your friends are popular and liked. Chtulhu, if only their former clubmates could see them new. 

Your apartment is not exactly big, so it’s not a surprise that Atsumu hears Osamu casual insults. You ignore the insults coming from your bedroom and place the paper bag on your round table and carefully take out both your breakfast, packed in the plastic bag and your bento box. You leave your lunch alone, for a moment, focusing on your breakfast. 

Osamu created for you three strawberry shortcake sandwiches. When the sweet fragrance attacks your nose, you feel yourself drooling a little. With a light blush, you reach to the corner of your mouth and wipe it out.

“Why do the two of you treat me like that?!” Atsumu’s shout resounds from your living room and you have to snicker. Mr. Yoshida is going to be fucking angry and you are living for it, “You are both so damn rude.” 

You disregard it entirely, too busy with opening one of your drawers and deciding on one of your plates. You finally take the black one with the Regulus constellation and place it on the table as Osamu plops down on one of your chairs. 

“Yeah, whatever,” he yawns loudly, showing just the right amount of disinterest and indifference in his tone before directing his amber-like eyes on you. They are much softer when he looks up to you and you don’t hide the sparkling smile as you take your electronic kettle, “Tell me what you think about sandwiches. First time doing them like that.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Want tea?” you question, bringing the kettle under the sink and starting to pour it into your pot, “I think I have somewhere the orchid one.” 

“You are sure you will not burn the water?” he asks, a smirk twisting on his grin. 

“Who do you think I am? Atsumu?” you ask, taking the kettle back and switching it up, “I can boil water, thank you very much. Tea or nay? What about you, Atsumu?!” the last words you scream, making sure that the blond can hear you. 

“You are rude, sunny! I can boil water!” “And I don’t want to! You have thirty minutes to get ready, sunny, get to the job, stop wasting time! And by the way, you should finally clean, I can’t find your uniform in this mess.” 

“As if you are better, Tsumu. Your room is a biological hazard to the society,” “Thank you, marshmallow, but I’m way too warm for tea. Tsumu forced me to go on his morning run, fucker.” 

“You should thank me, you brat!” 

“There is water in the fridge if you want, Sam-chan,” you say absentmindedly, pouring the tea into your cup with a dragon, “Wait, what does he mean, thirty minutes? Lessons start after eight.” 

“Forgot about practice, [Name]?” 

Your brain shuts up for the second. You tilt your head, utterly lost on what he is saying. A small huff of air leaves his lips as you continue to gaze confusedly, before asking, “What practice?” 

A soft, tender smile breaks on Osamu’s face as you sit down, placing your cup next to your seat. You take one of the sandwiches and put it down on your plate, rousing your eyes to meet his. 

“You became our manager, darling,” he informs you, reaching to give you a head pat. You lean in his direction, starving for the touch. 

You are the manager of the Inarizaki volleyball team.

“Oh, damn.”

_You are the manager of the Inarizaki volleyball team._

It’s way too early to think about the ramifications of your actions. Way, way too early to remember how easy it was for Kita to go around all of your protective walls and persuade you to join. How dangerous he is, the captain of this team you are supposed to manage.

You sigh. 

“Volleyball, sunny, volleyball!” comes Atsumu’s voice from another room, “There’s no time to laze about, we have to train, and go crush people in the Nationals. Or at least that’s the plan, as long the scrubs don’t destroy everything.”

“That garbage of the personality of yours will destroy everything, idiot,” is your friend’s response to Atsumu’s taunt. You decide to ignore the brewing fight, instead, focusing on the most important thing in your life. 

Food, that’s it. 

“Shut up, Samu!” Atsumu screams back. Well, Mr. Yoshida, you should never listen to Despacito at three a.m. if you don’t want to hear hellish arguments at six, “You saw those first-years. All of them were awful.” 

“Not worse than you!” 

“You little-” 

You take the first, experimental bite out of your sandwich, and instantly, the taste overwhelms your senses. It’s so _soft_ it nearly melts in your mouth. It’s creamy and sweet, but not too sweet, just a perfect amount of sweet. The flavor of strawberries runs in your mouth and without thinking twice, you crunch down into your sandwich again and let out a satisfied moan. 

“Osa-chan, Osa-chan, Osa-chan!” you bounce on your seat, reaching with your hand to Osamu’s sleeve. You tug at it, forcing him to look at you and saying without any hesitation in your voice, “This is the best thing I have ever eaten!” 

Your friend blinks for a second before his hand comes to rest atop of your head. He ruffles your hair, a gentle smile etched on his face as he does so. You beam at him and the cream off your lips, before hastily returning to munching at them, not wanting to be far away from fruity goodness.

“That’s what you say everything he cooks,” Atsumu enters the kitchen, his hands full of your clothes. He is scowling for some reason at the two of you, _“Everything,_ ” he stresses the word, rolling his eyes, “Are you afraid to hurt his small, delicate feelings?” 

“Not my fault everything Sam–chan makes is to die for,” you snap back, biting down on your sandwich, “He could become a chief if he wanted to.”

There is a moment of silence as Atsumu pouts, plopping down on your last free chair. You munch on your breakfast absentmindedly, when you feel an electric volt run through your spine. Confused, you shuffle a bit, looking around until your eyes are met with those of Osamu. 

Now, you know the younger twin pretty damn well, if you can say so yourself, but the face he pulls is super mysterious. It’s something very much tender, and raw, and you even notice the sharps pieces of pride in his gaze, but more than that, you have trouble calling the emotions on him. 

You tilt your head, in silent question, but the only response you get is a small bob of his head as if he is trying to say it’s not important. You disagree with that viciously, of course, because everything about him is important to you, but he averts his gaze, making further telepathic discussion very hard. 

“If you don’t like my food so much, you can give me your bento back, Tsumu,” he only says, tapping his fingers at the table. He cocks his chin, as he continues calmly, “I’m sure _somebody else_ is going to appreciate it a lot more.”

That somebody is, without question, you. You giggle gleefully and take a sip of your tea, only to hastily put it back, when you feel it is still too hot. 

“Hey now, you know that’s not what I meant,” Atsumu hastily raises his head, looking panicked all the sudden and you giggle as you end your last sandwich.

“You are so predictable, Atsu-chan, it’s nearly embarrassing,” you taut him, licking your fingers of the remains of your breakfast. 

He narrows his eyes at you.

“You just want to get your hands on my bento, don’t you, sunshine?”

You very suspiciously reach for your cup and drink the liquid in, avoiding his death glare as you sip it, ignoring how way too hot the tea is. It’s still good, though, the matcha flavor is perfect to wake up from whatever dizziness was left. 

“What do you mean your bento?” Osamu cuts in, a shit-eating grin resting on his face, “You said you don’t want it.”

“I didn’t!” Atsumu puts his hands defensively in the air, “You are getting deafer and deafer with years, little brother,” he sighs and before Osamu can say anything, hastily adds as he points at the clothes on the chair, “Do you know I found my T-shirt from two years ago before I even saw the fragment of your uniform?” you don’t reply, still being too busy with averting your gaze, “You can hold onto that one, by the way. It’s too small for me.” 

He is way too dramatic. Your room may be messy, but it’s all organized mess. You know where everything is! Or at least you think you do, and that’s the most important thing you suppose. 

“Kay-kay, thanks, Tsu-chan,” you yawn, as you respond. A free shirt is a good shirt, after all, and you are not going to complain about it. You can complain about something else, though. You sigh as you are reminded about the sports, “Will have what to wear on the practice. Stupid sports.”

“You mean an amazing sport,” Atsumu fixes your sentence and you hiss, as playful, happy smile tugs on his lips, “It will be so fun, sunny, you will see. You are not going to love it so much and then you will finally feel grateful towards me.” 

You roll your eyes, deciding not to answer as you stand up. It’s six-thirty right now, which means you have only about fifteen minutes to get dressed. Well, time to go, you guess. You put your cup and plate in the sink, leaving the washing for the future you. Then, you take the uniform from the chair and slide out of the room, leaving the clothes in the bathroom before returning to your room to grab underwear. 

You don’t have time to shower, which is a damn shame. There is nothing better than a hot shower or/and bath in the morning. You take time to wash your face though, not going your full face-care routine, but applying the tonic and cream. Then, you brush your hair and comb it into two ponytails on the sides of your head. 

You swing them, looking at the way they flow around you with a small smile. It’s a silly thing to do, but you do it anyway, enjoying the feeling it carries through. With that out of the way, you can change from your warm, cozy Kigurumi. The perspective of that is not really happy, but it’s not like you have a big out of choice. 

You sigh as you reach with your hands to your ugly, ugly uniform. Okay, it’s not so ugly, that title belonging to the Sakuragi High School’s uniform, but it was not exactly cute either. As a super rich-school, Inarizaki had about three variants or four of uniforms students could choose to wear. You were supposed to buy all of them, of fucking course, and while wearing all of them was not encouraged, it was not strictly forbidden. 

Yesterday, you wore a black skirt and a maroon shirt with a tie and black blazer. Atsu chose something different, though you wouldn’t call this one ugly. You high-five him mentally as you tuck your black shirt under your high-waisted maroon skirt. 

The best part of dark tops was the fact that you could wear a colorful bra under them and nobody would the wiser, you decide with a snicker as you bend over to don the pair of knee-socks. They are not the typically adorable/playful socks you like to wear, but they are still cuter, ending with bunny ears and being in your favorite color. 

With that out of the way, you throw the sweater in the color of peanut butter over your shoulders. You button it nearly all the way up, leaving only one small button left as you reach for the ribbon that is part of your uniform. You try your best to tie it around your collar, but it looks rather pathetically bad. 

Your grimace at the image you see in the mirror, not liking the way you look. It’s not like you change a lot of that picture with Atsumu screaming that you have five minutes left. You pursue your lips in a pout as you exit the bathroom, somewhat dressed.

Now, to find all of your shit. As you have said, your room is not that messy. You have no problem whatsoever in obtaining your notebooks or books, and hurling them into your pink bag with your bento. _Atsu is just a big baby_ , you determine, as you pack the second bag with your sports shoes (they are still so beautiful), sweatpants, and T-shirt you just got from your friend.

Behold, just like that, Date [Name] is ready in thirty minutes or so. Nice work, not counting that stupid ribbon, if you can say so yourself. You enter your kitchen, bobbing your head, and find the hellions talking about volleyball. 

You click your lips. It’s not funny how simple they are, really. 

“Let’s go before I change my mind,” you announce loudly and pat the bag hanging from your shoulder, “Oh, never mind, I already changed it.”

“Too late, sunshine,” Atsumu grins as he stands up with his twin, “You are in for life.”

You roll your eyes as you spin around and go to your anteroom. Of course, as the connoisseur of shoes, you would be able to sit here and decide which pair to wear for hours, but you know that: a) you don’t have time to do it, b) twins would die before you concluded which one you want to don. So you simply put on one of your favorites, not caring much to look at others. 

“Not standing to decide which ones?” Atsu teases as he bends down to tie shoelaces, “What sort of national holiday is that?” 

“Do you want me to?” you ask him sweetly, batting your eyes innocently, “I can do this for you, Atsu-chan. Who needs volleyball practice anyway, right? We can stand there for three hundred years!” 

“He needs one if he wants to be better,” Osamu points out dryly, as he slides into his choice of footwear, “By the way, you still own us food for losing, Tsumu, because you have lost. Don’t forget about that, you lame-o.”

“I know, I know, you don’t have to remind me every five minutes,” Atsumu grimaces, reaching over to the door and unlocking it. He holds it open, letting the two go out before he slaps your door closed, “I will win next time anyway.”

A click resounds in the air, but you shake your handle a bit, making sure it’s closed anyway. You nod, satisfied with the results. The automatic lock never disappointed you before, but a little paranoia never hurt anybody. You can’t trust anybody, after all, not even yourself. You bounce on your step, nodding to twins and the three of you go towards the stairs. 

“Maybe then try winning before saying it?” Osamu sighs. You snicker and he winks at you before he reaches towards your shoulder and takes your bag. He throws it around his own shoulder, not showing any sort of strain from the heavy load, “You are so lame, Tsumu.”

“The lamest,” you agree as the three of you leave your apartment complex, “Thanks, Sam-chan, you are the best ~” you singsong the last words, smiling warmly even as the cold wind blows straight towards you. 

_Ever the gentleman, that’s my best friend alright,_ you think fondly to yourself, admiring the natural way he always helps you in his every step. You don’t even try to hide bounce in your next steps. 

It’s nearly sinful how happy you feel at this unholy hour. You swear the police sirens will go off any moment and you are going to be apprehended for the crime of being merry so early. Ugh, disgusting. Your thoughts very much follow your reasoning, as your blood runs suddenly cold. 

_I’m going to the volleyball practice,_ you are reminded. Did somebody just throw a bucket of ice-cold water at you? It certainly feels this way, _I’m going to be their manager. I’m going to talk with people. I’m going to -_

 _Fuck. They even have club meetings both before and after the lessons. How people ever survive shit like that? What sort of sadistic idea is it? When they are supposed to sleep? When_ I am _supposed to sleep?_

You bite down on your lip, your happiness disappearing as the reality makes sense. You can’t help but think that the nuclear war would be so much better than whatever is waiting for you in the school. 

Your shoulders drop and the change in you is easily noticed by both of your companions. Very similar frowns appear on their faces as they share a glance over you. You open your mouth and exhale, nervously linking your hands before you. 

“If somebody as much breathes in your direction and you don’t like it, come to us right away, sunshine,” Atsumu instantly tries to cheer you up, his hand coming to steal one of yours away, “There is no way we will let anything happen to you, okay? Trust us?”

You trust both them with your life. You don’t trust Date [Name], age fifteen, one pathetic crybaby with anger issues. Your lip quiver and you drop your shoulders.

“I’m just nervous,” you say as you reach for Osamu’s hand. You clasp your fingers around the two of them, trying to lean down on the warmth they emanate, “I don’t want to go, bros. I want to stay home, please, please, please.” 

Osamu’s hand trembles and you more feel than see that they exchange gazes once more before the younger twin’s thumb caresses the skin of your hand.

“I would give you a world if you wanted, [Name],” he says simply and then sighs as Atsumu hisses down at him, “Calm down, you idiot, and let me finish,” he snaps at his brother before speaking to you, much, much softer, “But it’s going to be good for you, darling, really. Please, just try? If you don’t like today, you don’t have to come back.” 

“No, Samu!” the blond yells out before you can even process the words, “It started so well, but then you had to go all about being such a wimp! Why the hell do you spoil [Name] so much?! Just tell her you will be sad if she is not our manager!” 

“Shut up, you prick! I’m not going to force her to do something she doesn’t want to do, no matter how much _good_ you think it is going to be for her! I’m not a heartless monster like you!” 

A laugh escapes your mouth and you don’t fight it, letting it all out as your stupid, stupid friends argue over totally pointless things. The cold you felt seconds ago disappears with their words and instead, there is warmth blossoming in your chest as the unmistakable feeling of love encompasses you.

They care so much. Too much, really. You still are anxious, you still want to run away, but at least you know, that they will be on your side. 

"Idiots,” you call them fondly, squeezing their hands as you go through the roads of Amagasaki town, “You are both such big idiots, how do you even live without me? You are totally going to cry if I leave now, right?” 

You lift your head only to notice how both of them bear completely blank faces, void of any emotions as they avoid your eyes. What the -?

“I did not cry. Right, Samu?”

“Yeah, he didn’t.” 

A sweat drops from your forehead. 

“I can’t believe this is the thing you agree on.”

* * *

You thank Chtulhu, the Ancient One, that Inarizaki is not so far from your apartment and you don’t have to beg for Osa to give you a piggy ride. It’s still very much uncomfortable to have nothing but the sweater against the blowing wind and you can’t wait when the weather will just chill - wait, no, don’t chill, weather, please. You just want summer, okay? Or rather, you just want spring to finally kick the ass of the remains of the winter and to save you from the icy gales coming from the sea. 

It takes, what, ten minutes to arrive at your school and five more to get into the building where the so-called coaches of the team reside. Both of the twins are holding your hands and easing your worries, but the truth is, you still feel nervous about meeting coaches of the prestigious volleyball team. 

“You are the one that bites, [Name]-chan,” Atsumu tries to encourage you with typical for his wit. That’s it, the complete lack of it. And okay, you may have bitten him once or twice, but that’s really not the time to share old grievances! “You have nothing to be scared of, probably.”

“Probably?” you arch your eyebrow up, “Very fucking reassuring, damn, damn, damn-”

“That foul mouth is all your fault, Samu,” Tsu exclaims, rubbing the back of his neck as he does so, “Little [Name]-chan used to be so cute, and then she met you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” is his twin graceful answer, “It’s fucking adorable and you are just being an idiot. [Name], ignore whatever Tsumu says.” 

“Okay,” you nod easily as you trudge alongside them. 

“Wait, what?!” 

Now, what do you know about those coaches? According to your sources of information - Atsu, and Osa, that’s it - Kurosu would sell this whole team and his family for his dog, while Oomi is probably an antichrist in the disgust who drinks and smokes all day.

Fuck. Can he tell you to fuck off if Kita already accepted you? He probably can. Oh, who are you kidding? He definitely can. Kurosu sighs again and then he steps into the room, shouting for you to follow him. That causes you to jump in the fright and gulp loudly. Maybe choosing such a hairstyle wasn’t your best choice. What if you look childish and foolish to teachers? What if they are harsh because you are not good enough? Oh, gods, they are going to hate you, of course, they will - everybody hates you!

“If they do you can sue them,” Atsumu reckons softly, though there is a smirk curling at his lips. Wait, did you say it aloud? Fuck, “We can probably find some good lawyers.”

The last time he said that you three were banned from your favorite restaurant. Yeah, your spirits are not uplifted at all.

“Why do I hear demonic voices so early in the morning?” comes a gruff sounding and the doors open, slamming against the wall, “It's way too early for this, Osamu, Atsumu."

In the doorway stands an older gentleman with square glasses, looking at the three of you with a rather unpleasant expression.

“Hey, Kurosu-sensei, that’s rude of you!” Atsumu is fast to deflect as he takes his arm back, “Didn’t you miss us?”

“I didn’t see you for what? One day?” he questions, his eyes narrowed at innocently blinking twins, “That was a good, peaceful day with Momo-chan and the rest of the family. Without you. Wonderful day, truly,” he sighs loudly and you clutch Osamu’s hand a tad tighter as Kurosu’s eyes lock on your form, “Date-san, right? The one you couldn’t shut up about?” 

“At least [Name]-chan is human, you know, sensei,” Atsumu responds nonchalantly and you feel your nerves ease even more at the easy way he mocks the teacher. 

You feel Osamu pressing his thumb against your hand and you instantly know what he means. He is giving you a sign to introduce yourself and that, that, that is very not healthy for your poor heart. 

Clutching your lower lip, you let the hands of your friends go. The invisible knot tightens around your throat as you take a step ahead. Panicking will not help you, your mind knows that. Your heart, though, is too fucking busy bursting out of your ribcage to care. 

“I’m D-Date [Name],” you bend your back into the deep bow. Maybe too deep of the bow, you don’t know, Lord of Darkness, things like that are really, really complicated. You rise up slowly, stuttering your way through this social interaction, “It’s n-nice t-to meet you. Please, t-take c-care of me.” 

Your mother may not have raised you at all, but she for sure taught you a lot of stupid pleasantries that came all the way from prehistory. The world would just be so much easier if you could wave at him and greet him with simple _yo, motherfucker_. 

Kurosu raises his brown at that, genuinely surprised. He looks a lot younger than you would expect from what the twins told you. Even his hair is not white but colored in that greyish blonde-brown mix that is too much Slavic to belong to Japanese, making you think there has to be a little bit of Russian blood in his veins. Though he is half-blind already with those big, black glasses resting on his nose, so maybe he is old, who knows. 

“It is pleasure to meet you, Date,” Kurosu gives you a little bow. His words sound surprisingly sincere, to be honest, “I expected somebody more like twins, but you seem to at least know your manners unlike the demons from a hell that will be the cause of my retirement.” 

“Hey, sensei, what does it mean?” Atsumu cocks his head, acting in a mock-offending manner, “We’re perfectly polite, I will let you know.” 

You try your best to fight back the smile that threatens to show on your face, however you fail miserably as Osamu opens his mouth.

“Yes, we’re fucking angels.”

“Troublemakers,” he chides them with a deadpan before waving them away, “Disappear from my sight before I give you drills, demons. I will talk with your friend,” at the glare the both of them send him, he exhales, “Nothing bad will happen to her, Satan’s sons! Go already!” 

“Yessir,” they salute him lazily, though they still look suspicious. Atsumu leans down to give a chaste kiss to your cheek, while Osamu ruffles your hair, and then, they leave you completely alone with the coach. 

That’s not foreboding at all. _Okay, okay, okay,_ you try to calm yourself down as you take a deep breath, _You can do it, [Name], you are a bad bitch who fears not a middle-aged man in glasses! He is not so scary anyway and totally doesn’t hide the body in his office. Like, at all. Be brave, [Name], be brave._

You take a deep breath before you step into, well definitely not humble, office. You have to blink several times as you register that there is fucking chocolate fountain in the middle of the room. Functioning chocolate fountain that is currently used by the second coach of the team, the one called Oozi or Oomi or something.

“Our new manager?” he asks as he takes his piece of bread smeared with chocolate and bites down on it, “The one the demons were badgering us about?”

He is younger than Kurosu, you think. You would place him something in the middle-twenties, though his eyes tell you he is two thousand years old. He just looks so dead, no matter how wide his smile is. His black hair is devoid of any grey hairs, his face is smooth and his jaw is strong. He is a somewhat attractive man - though, he is nothing compared to Kakashi Hatake.

_What would you do to make Kakashi Hatake real._

You can’t daydream, though, not with him waiting for you to say anything, anything at all. You are not good at this people thing, after all. Screaming in your mind, you repeat your name and bow yet again.

“It’s nice to meet you, Date,” he nods at you, “I’m Oomi Tarou. I work both as an advisor to the club and secondary coach. They don’t pay me for both of those roles, though,” the smile he gives you is so, so scary, “Atsumu and Osamu spoke well of you. I’m not sure what that means, because they are demons from a hell that came to the Earth to remind us about the sins crawling on ours back,” he says in a surprisingly soft tone, “Do you know what managers’ responsibilities are?”

You ignore the first part of the message. Demons speaking well of you is actually a pretty normal thing. They don’t let people bad-mouth you, because, you know, they love you and can be a little bit protective sometimes.

The second part, though. You think, maybe, that you do? Because the captain showed you something yesterday, yes? Well, time to stutter your way through this social interaction even more.

“K–Kita–senpai showed me what to do.”

There. You said something. Where is your Nobel Prize? 

“You can always rely on Kita,” Kurosu comments, urging the corners of his lips up as he places his cup on the table, “I would already retire if it was not for him and the headmaster sending me photos of puppies.” 

“I would be long retired if that was not for the headmaster holding my wife captive,” coach Oomi supplies, smiling the whole time. 

“He doesn’t even have a wife,” Kurosu explains, rolling his eyes as he beckons you with his hand. You step up, very, very hesitantly, “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have a girlfriend.” 

“You are so cruel, Norimune-san,” Oomi comments from his seat, spinning in it like a fidget spinner, “Maybe I just don’t want to introduce her to the pack of bloodthirsty demons and scare her away.” 

“I will believe in that the day the Miya twins don’t cause me the headache, Tarou-kun,” he sigh, before he looks at you, “I’m supposedly the head coach of this team, with Oomi serving as advisor. You don’t have any classes with Date, Tarou-kun?” 

“The advanced class goes to Amane,” Oomi waves his hand, “So not really. This is a shame because that means I teach demons.” 

Kurosu ignores him, taking several documents from his table and presenting them to you. 

“You are not in any other club, right?” you hastily nods and he continues, “Good. We just need you to fill some forms for us. Stuff like - well, contact info for your guardian in Hyogo, your phone number, list of allergies and health issues, things like that.” 

“You can start with laundry. The first thing you notice: there is always laundry to be done in the volleyball club. Then join us in the gym, we will show you the rest of your tasks,” Oomi says, going to the fountain with a cup and causing you to shudder, “Feel free to ask any question you have, it doesn’t matter if it’s a sport, players, or your tasks.”

* * *

Just like that, your day starts. 

There are three things that are sure in life: birth, death, and taxes. The administration may not be such a bane of human existence, but it’s still pretty troublesome. You fill the forms presented to you diligently before you are given keys to the building and promptly sent to change and then to do laundry. Your pink bag is already in the room, courtesy of the angelic Osamu Miya, so you thank him silently before continuing on your way. 

Fuck laundry, really. Like, okay, you do it for yourself all the time. This is something you are pretty sure you are capable of doing, and yet - 

There is so much of it. So, so, so much.

You feel like crying as you find yourself separating clothes by colors. It’s a smelly task, full of bumbling into sweated clothes and touching things like fucking _boxers_. You do it anyway, with your nose scrunched in disgust as you place the clothing in various washing machines. 

It takes you a little of pressing random buttons and then, finally finding the manual instruction to the machines. You throw the detergents in various compartments and then click buttons, launching them into life.

 _It’s alive, Igor, it’s alive!_ you think as you come to the section of the manual mentioning it takes about thirty minutes for the normal routine. Go figure, you will have to return at the end of the practice to hang it behind the gym. 

You roll your eyes, but finally, you cross that thing out of your list of things to do. 

So, one thing crossed out. Time to go to the gym. You can do it, yeah, you can totally, hahaha. Ha. Satan dearest, who are you trying to deceive? Yourself, it seems. _It will not be so bad_ , you try to manipulate yourself, _AtsuAtsu and SamSam are going to be there._

So you swallow and enter the gym.

The first thing you notice is that there a lot more people in the morning. You recognize a few of them: Kita, Aran/Allan, Akagi, and Naruto-hater. The rest, yeah, you are pretty sure the captain did name them, but you can’t find their names in your memory. 

You wave shyly at stupidly grinning twins and try to ignore the gazes of the rest of the team. It’s a little hard task because they all look at you. When you join teachers sitting on those stupid benches, you are very much red and unsettled. Your nerves don’t subside as Kurosu asks you, politely ignoring your burning cheeks, to refill boys’ bottles. 

His wish is your command. Or rather, you don’t have a fucking choice. 

You take bottles in turns because no way you can drag them all at once, and order to replenish water for them all. If you were a worse person, you would totally spit in Atsumu or Osamu’s bottle, but you decide against it and just dutifully refill them without any sort of underhand tactic. 

For now. Can’t use all of your tricks in one day.

Of course, Atsumu is a garbage person who is trash and doesn't understand that you are the person with a plan. The first thing he does the moment he has a break and can enjoy some peace is to destroy said peace. 

“Okay, what did you do to my water?” he asks, swirling his bottle suspiciously squinting his eyes. The rest of the team stop in their steps, gazing at their own bottles in fear. Not all of them, of course - Kita doesn’t care in the slightest and continue to sip while Zombie looks to be drinking ever more greedily.

Ewww. 

“It’s not water, it’s acid, my good sir,” you answer from across the gym, starting to collect balls even when nobody told you. Yes, you are amazing, you are doing your best, you are totally not avoiding the rest of the team by going to the other side of the gym. 

“Acid in the color of water?” comes his mocking answer. You roll your eyes, hurling the balls into the basket. 

“What do _you_ know about acid anyway?” you question as you gaze at your well-done job, “Your science grade is not so much better than your history mark, idiot.”

He grimaces, before pointing to his twin with his thumb. 

“Hey, at least it’s better than Samu’s!”

“Yeah, you are better than me in one subject,” Osamu deadpans, leaving his empty bottle on the bench, “That’s so cool of you, Tsumu. Wow. Somebody call the Prime Minister and the Emperor, and maybe Nato while we’re at it already.”

“Hey, don’t be jealous now, Samu. I know nobody can be perfect like me.”

You are pretty sure you would not find Atsumu’s picture under the definition of _perfection_. He is definitely under _asshole_ or _pain–in–the–ass_ though. You smile as your balls hit the corner of the basket.

“Do you even know when the Second World War started?” you ask him with a playful edge to your tone, “Come on, you have to know at least that, Atsu-chan. It’s fucking World War.” 

He squints his eyes as you skip to him, clapping your hands. 

“1936.” 

What a bitch. Of course, he is wrong. 

Some Asian historians claim the World War Two started in 1937 when your Imperialistic ancestors attacked China. You heard some American ones say that it started in 1941, again by your grand-grandparents who attacked Pearl Harbor, causing the USA to join the war. The most common date, though, was 1939, the date of the attack of the German Reich on the Republic of Poland. 

So, he is so, so wrong. How can he be so wrong? You arch your eyebrow up, shaking your head sadly before you look to your better friend. 

“Sam-chan?” 

“1939.”

“Ding-dong, we have a winner!” 

You point your finger at Osamu, smiling brightly. Atsumu, being Atsumu, does the most childish thing possible, and you find yourself in his chokehold as he tries to smother you. Strangulation, there you come. 

“How can you don’t know it?” you mumble out with difficulty, “Are you sure you are a proper human being? It’s one fucking date, you dummy.”

“Do I have to remind you of all those times you came crying to this idiot?” he mocks you, releasing you from his arms in order to ruffle your hair, “ _AtsuAtsu, there's a spider in my room, please save me. Atsu-chan, I can’t open the bottle, can you please? Atsumu, I’m stuck in the wardrobe, help me._ ”

He doesn’t sound like you in the slightest. You breathe out, seeking the air, before you retort, massaging your flushed cheeks, “Show me the evidence. You don’t have evidence? Then it didn’t happen, duh!”

“You little -“

Yes, you are little, but he doesn’t have to remind you that all the time. You hiss, ready to attack him back when you understand that he cut himself in the middle of the insult. 

AtsuAtsu is not the most intelligent person on the earth – neither are you, okay, you don’t say it only to shit on him – so he still was holding his open bottle of water when he attacked you. So, right now? Both of you watch like idiots how the bottle wobbles in his hand before falling more surely than London bridge and spilling all of its contents on the way down.

Fortunately, you are not entirely wet. Most of the water landed on Atsumu’s leg and floor. Unfortunately, the whole–ass floor didn’t really have a chance to you know, avoid the substance. 

So, fuck.

There is a profound silence in the gym before Kurosu sighs with exhaustion.

“This is why nobody wants to have practice matches with us anymore,” he tells boys tiredly before he clears his throat, and points in your general direction, “Clean it up.”

Atsumu sends you a look. You send him one back. He scowls and looks back at you. You shake your head, biting down on your lip. He starts to _choke_ you again. 

“Mom, mom, mom, Atsu-chan is trying to kill me again!” you whimper pathetically, “Save me, mom! Make him clean! _Mom_!” 

To be honest, you expected Osamu to back you off, but he is not one to step between the two of you. Instead, it’s Kita, with his icy eyes and the composure of the king. Hm. You don’t think kings are cool, but something about the captain of this team seems truly majestic. 

_He is the emperor_ , you think mockingly, _The ruler of those lands, His Imperial Majesty, Shinsuke Kita, the captain of the volleyball team._

“Atsumu,” the voice of Kita works on Atsumu nearly as efficiently as the ball is thrown at him by Osamu. He releases you and you scramble back, escaping from his long, long arms as the captain demands coldly, “Take care of it.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, safely behind Osamu. 

“Get rekt, Tsu-chan!”

* * *

After this accident, the rest of the morning practice is rather uneventful.

You watch as the team does some drills. Or at least, that’s what you are told. You watch all of them nervously before you have to go back to hang the laundry. You should invest in some gloves because you find yourself grimacing when you touch those cursed boxers. 

Carrying your sports clothes everywhere would be a pain in the ass, which is why you decide to leave them into the changing room, praying that nobody will take them away as you leave, locking the doors, and shuffling around nervously near the boys changing room. There's a vending machine next to it and you lose some yen to it, purchasing some snacks, as you wait for twins to come to get you.

“How do you feel?” Kita questions kindly, even though his tone is icy cold. You send him a shaky smile as you open your pack of gummies. 

“I’m o-o-okayish?” you answer unsurely, averting his brown eyes, “It’s - it’s new, I guess. Will do m-my best or whatever. 

He simply nods and you wave at him as he leaves with Aran, gripping your snack. Just smile and wave, smile and wave, and everything will be fine, you hope. Probably it will not. You wait so more time, seeing more of the boys leaving the room with Zombie in the lead, sending you an annoyed look before disappearing. You ignore that, taking your watermelon gummy into your mouth and continuing to wait for your friends. 

The twins are probably the last boys to leave, to be honest, but you don’t really care, instantly launching yourself at them.

“I did it. Atsu-chan, Sam-chan, I did it.” 

Their arms immediately go around you and the three of you share a moment of silence as your racing heart finally calms down. Your nerves are still strained and you still want nothing more to return to your apartment. Burying yourself in the blankets, drinking hot chocolate, and hiding from your problems - it seems like a dream.

“Good job, darling,” Osamu murmurs into your hair, his hands encompassing both you and Atsumu, protective and gentle as he sweetly announces, “I’m proud of you.”

Yet, there you are, doing your best to walk into this living nightmare because your friends are there to support you. Your lip quivers and you nudge yourself into their chests even closer, until you hear the erratic beating of their hearts.

“It was not so bad, see?” Atsumu teases you gently, his hand already on it’s way to stroke your hair and destroy your ponytails, “You did amazing, sunshine.” 

You hum in answer.

“Didn’t even get stuck in the vending machine this time,” he continues, lightly teasing as you finally tear yourself off each other, “Don’t need a hero to save you in the nick of the time,” he quotes, smiling way too cockily for you. You reach to his face and pinch his cheek before linking your hands behind your back. 

“It was only one time,” you pursue your lips into the pout, “And you got stuck with me too! You better play nice, Atsu-chan, I still have pictures.”

“Send them to me? Mama will love them,” Sam interjects whatever stupid thing Atsumu wanted to retort, waving his phone as takes your bag from your shoulder, “She is still in denial that Tsumu’s cool. We all know he is not.”

“I’m the coolest, Samu, get lost!” 

“Live in the denial longer, oh brother of mine.” 

You giggle.

“Will send them to the group.”

“Don’t your freaking dare, sunshine! I know where you live, remember?” 

Is that supposed to be a threat? You tilt your head, mockingly pretending to be confused by his stupid statement. 

“And I know where you live, Atsu-chan. Your point?”

“Don’t think too much about his words, [Name]. We all know he is pussy and won’t do anything.”

“Samu!” 

Something is wrong.

Something is very, very much wrong.

Not with the three of you, no, never with you. You laugh and insult each other in a perfectly normal manner. There is fondness, there is love, there is the friendship that you build over the years. No real hostility can be found between the three of you and your conversation is as stupid and worthless as always. 

You also look just the same as you did in the morning. Two male clones and one female clone, delivered to Inarizaki High School as ordered. So why do you feel so many gazes on you? Not even on twins, the so-called popular, famous one, but at you. 

The school’s attention in this morning seems to be at you and that’s-that’s-that’s eerily reminiscent of - 

_(Hand yanking your hair, hard. Sneering smile. Blood on the tile. You are not alone, but there is nobody on your side. People, so many people, their eyes following you without remorse, without pity, smiling and grinning._

_They watch, watch, watch as you tremble, as you fall, as you scream – without any emotion, with sneering smiles, and venomous words around you - )_

\- of the things you should rather not remember. You suddenly feel nauseous, the knot around your throat so tight it’s hard to breathe. Your head spins and you hate this unsettling feeling that is on the bottom of your stomach. 

The disturbance in the Force, you could ever say. Maybe somewhere a young padawan falls to the dark side! Hahaha. The joke fells flat even in your head, as you are so, so afraid and scared because you just worked through one of your issues, but this-this make you think of- 

Nothing really explains those gazes. They are ravenous, hungry, greedy. You end up changing your position and hiding between twins as you walk through corridors, the conversation not strained, even if your nerves are. Your friends don’t seem to notice at all, holding your hands and talking as if everything is normal. Or they try to pretend to ignore it, to play as everything is normal. 

You don't know. It’s a little bit better when you are safely located in the middle, tucked between them, not alone, but the looks don’t stop. They only intensify.

"Just send a word," Osamu whispers as he places your bag on your table, squeezing your hand before he lets go, "And we will be there immediately, darling.” 

“Hear him, sunshine,” Atsumu leans in to kiss your cheek, offering comfort, “Just one word, no matter what. So, don’t be scared, alright?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You struggle a bit to smile at them, but try to do so nonetheless, as you whisper a quiet farewell to twins. You wait for a moment, watching them turn around.

_They are leaving you behind once again._

Your heart burst. You plop back to your side, doing your best to ignore gazes, to ignore your classmates as you tell yourself you are fine. 

You are not.

The shiver that threatens to go down your neck. Everybody is still watching you. So many eyes on you. Why? Why? Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. You did nothing wrong, you swear, you do your best, you -

“Hello?”

You clutch your eyes shut, counting slowly to the ten in your mind. The numbers in your head help you to collect yourself and you breathe out, trying to calm down even more. It nearly works, but then you open your eyes. Through your blurry eyes, you notice even more people watching you and you fluster, tapping your fingers against the desk in a familiar rhythm. 

You suddenly feel the urge to just violently hit the desk with your stupid head.

“Date–san?”

_Whomst the fuck? Nope, that’s not me, no way, no way. I just changed my last name, like, yesterday. Please, call me Hippotatosaur. What a shame that somebody is looking just for the person with my former name, haha. Please leave me alone._

You are, of course, not left alone.

_Motherfucker._

Hesitantly you lift your head. Cthulhu doesn’t have mercy on your soul and you don’t disappear in the time it takes to do so, so you are met with the figure of a tall girl. She smiles as she notices your gaze, showing the world just how beautiful a girl can become if she knows what the fuck she is doing. Your feel your pulse becoming way too fast, as the understanding comes.

The blonde just called up your name. She stands in front of your desk. She, _hell hold you_ , wants something from you, needs something from you and that makes your heart beat faster and faster, as anxious thoughts fill you once more. _B_ _old move, serial killer_ , you suppose, as you grasp onto your desk, _Way too fucking bold. So many witnesses see you right now! Ha, amateurish job._

“Y–Yes?”

She looks even prettier when she smiles. You cannot help but admire her appearance, taking in all of her efforts to keep it so sparkling. Her eyes, you discern easily, bear shinning eyeliner with perfectly drawn wings and light, subtle silver shadows that seem to be drawing her blue eyes even more. She wears a pink, lip gloss, that makes her lips shimmers and you would be blind to not see the subtle blush on her cheeks. 

Her make-up, you judge, is easily scoring ten out of ten on the scale. 

The contrast between the two of you couldn’t be more visible if you fucking tried. Feeling self-conscious near such beauty, you find yourself nervously twirling a strand of your hair around your index finger. 

You don’t even know why she needs it, though, with her being so stunning you feel like an ugly duckling. Her hair and eyes easily mark her down as a foreigner or at least half-Japanese and with a loud gulp, you remember that the current Minister of Justice’s wife was not born in Japan. 

“My name is Kizuchi Sara,” she introduces herself as she bows her head in greeting, a kind smile curling in the corners of her lips, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Date-san."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: is a nervous wreck
> 
> Kita: already signing adoption papers
> 
> Suna: Oh my god.
> 
> The unreliable narrator is one of those really fun things to write. Atsumu giving Reader his shirt to wear is a little bit more than “hey, we forgot to take [Name]’s top, so let’s give her ours”. He is a manipulative little bastard and for once, Osamu didn’t fight him too much about it (they played rock, paper, scissors over whose shirt it is gonna be, and nearly killed each other when Osamu lost lmao).
> 
> Thank you for the kudos! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!
> 
> The chapter was edited on 17.01.21.


	6. In which somebody ended up in hospital (ha, the loser deserved that).

It’s a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming. On days like these, kids like you would prefer the antagonizing process of being burned alive in the deepest pits of hell over returning to the class. 

Fuck. 

When you finally return from washing your hands, you see that Sara Kizuchi is still waiting for you. In the time you were gone she ever brought your desks together, creating a little bit of table. For a second, it’s hard to breathe as you are seeing somebody else in her place. 

“Welcome back, Date-san,” she smiles at you, raising her hand in a wave, “I’m really grateful you agreed to spend time with me.” 

You smile at her awkwardly, passing several glaring students before returning to your table. Kizuchi nods, not minding your silence in the slightest as she sits down elegantly, crossing her legs in her ankles. In the clear contrast, you drop down to your seat without any finesse, feeling like a clown. You don’t try to imitate the grace of your classmate, bending down to bring your bento box from your bag before throwing one of your legs over the other. 

If you ever thought you could stand on equal footing with Sara Kizuchi, then you couldn’t be more wrong. It’s good that this delusion is shattered, but it’s not good that only her bento box is capable of telling you how different your lifestyles are. 

Her box is something out of the magazine: shaped into a simple square, black and elegant. Her meal had to be made by her own chief or butler, or something like. As far as you can tell, it has several levels. One of them is completely dedicated to sushi, another to something that smells like ramen, and there is even more with fluffy looking cake. It’s just so high-end and luxurious you can’t help but gawk a little.

On the side, there is you. Your bag for lunch is completely pink with little strawberries and that makes you feel so childish before you even take out your box. It’s a little, round thing, with only two levels. You used to think it was cutely dark, back when you ordered it only, but now you can’t help but blush a little as you gaze at the black-and-white box with vampire kittens of all things. 

You open it anyway, doing your best to ignore the judgmental looks of anyone. At the very least you can proudly say that your meal is definitely better than Kizuchi’s, mostly because no professional chef or butler can be better than your Osamu. The first level is full of onigiri formed into cute, clumsy kittens with a little bit of arugula and spinach around. There are also cucumbers shaped into stars and carrots cut into flowers. Your box’s second level is full of tamagoyaki with crab sticks, a little bit of rice shaped into a little piggy, and shrimps. 

It’s full of love and you love it so, so much, you take a moment to write a text message to Osamu. Said text message consists entirely of heart emojis. 

A soft giggle makes you raise your head. Kizuchi smiles at you as she reaches towards her nigiri. 

“Your bento is very cute, Date-san,” she praises as it was the easiest thing in the universe. It’s hard to believe she is talking, eating, and sharing her time with you. 

Kizuchi Sara, according to the gossip you heard in the school, is the former student council president of Inarizaki Middle School. She used to be an honor student, holding the highest marks not only in her year but in the whole school. Not to add that she is _sexy and kind, the perfect girl to call the Queen_. 

Your country doesn’t have a history of beheading royals, but the nickname made you a little bit uncomfortable nonetheless. It’s really creepy to be so fond of royalty, and you are saying that as somebody who admires tyrannical wannabe-kings. So, yeah, that makes you hypocritical, but those people you like are dead, so-

Does that make the whole deal better or worse? You don’t know. But that’s not the issue right now. Your issue is Kizuchi Sara. What could somebody like her gain by being a friend of a social recluse like you? 

“Thank y-you, K-Kizuchi-san,” you stutter, averting your gaze and reaching towards your chopsticks to nip at your lunch. 

Like, look at you. You can’t even properly talk! You don’t believe that anything that is happening is real, because if it was, it would mean sacrificing the population of Tokyo to Lucifer to let it happen. It’s simply too good to be real. 

Maybe you are in a parallel universe? 

“Those onigiris look like kittens - that’s so cute!” she chatters up in a friendly manner, “You must be so talented at cooking, Date-san,” she giggles as you awkwardly smile in answer, “My bento was made by Kaneda-san, our chef. He is very talented, but sometimes I wish I could learn how to cook if only to bring up my grades from home education.” 

You take a sip of your juice, stalling for time as you try to find the best way to respond. Being honest is always good, you suppose, as you go with the truth. 

“I’m n-not r-really that good at c-cooking either,” you mutter at least, your voice shaking comically, “My childhood f-friend is the one w-who makes my lunches.” 

It’s impossible that she really wants to be your friend.

_Or is it?_

You want to think so. It would be pretty cool to have a friend, a new friend to talk, to hug, and adore. Are you truly making a friend? You didn’t beg her to become your friend. She asked you _herself,_ smiling way too kindly at someone as lowly as you, then she proposed to have lunch with you. How could somebody like her want to spend time with somebody like you? 

Since then, the glares of the various students seemed to cease. You don’t know if Kizuchi intimidated them so much or if having a friend in the same class meant you are no longer a target for bullying. 

“You mean Miya-senpai, right? The person you are childhood friends with?”

You nod, still a little bit numb that somebody wants to talk with you. Spend time with you. Make friends with you. Like, you are pretty damn sure the only time something similar happened was in the first year in middle school before everybody in your classroom met the Miya twins.

The fact that the blonde is asking about the sons of Satan shakes you a little bit. It’s something out of the world for you, that somebody would ask about them from their own free will. At least you hope it’s her free will. Please, let it not be some plot of the Supreme Evil Overlord you are supposed to defeat to become one yourself.

No matter how hard you try to stop yourself, you still feel a little bubble of happiness growing in your chest. 

“Was it Miya Osamu-senpai or Atsumu-senpai?” she questions, still smiling warmly. To be honest, at this point you would answer if she asked even about your world-conquering plans. Seriously. You didn't even share those with _twins_. 

Little shits didn’t believe you when you told them you aren’t going to sit with them at lunch. Atsumu had the audacity to laugh you off and even showed up in your class when the break started. You just simply passed next to him, showing him a middle finger, as you moved to go wash your hands. 

“Osa-chan, oh, I mean Osamu,” you reply, doing your best not to stutter as you take a bite out of your tamagoyaki. It’s delicious as ever, and you can’t help the tender smile from blossoming on your face, “He is, totally, the best cook to ever cook.” 

She giggles at your answer, which means that you just scored, right? You chose the right answer in this strange dating sim. Only, you don’t want to date Kizuchi, no matter how pretty she looks. You want a friend. Your only female friend ever was Yua, and she - well, she was gone now. 

You would like to have a friend in her if Kizuchi Sara allowed you to. 

“Maybe he should join the cooking club, then,” she jokes and your heart thumps in your chest as you never joked with another high-school girl before. The joke falls a little bit on deaf ears because what she proposes is really, really incomprehensible. 

_Bitch, please, there’s no way Osa-chan would ever. He would die without volleyball as a flower dies without water._

“I don’t think Tsu-chan would let him,” you say instead, feeling very much out of your comfort zone, “He would pout so much and Sam-chan may look tough, but he is a real softy for Atsu.”

You can’t imagine a world in which Osamu doesn’t play volleyball. 

You have known both Atsumu and Osamu since you were five years old. You grew up together, causing trouble and destroying stuff. You know that pretty much since the fourth grade this sport is his, well, _their_ lives. 

When you were younger, you used to be jealous of that sport. In your defense, how were you supposed to comprehend that your two favorite people in the world don’t want to become ninjas with you anymore? Now it was volleyball pros. Only volleyball pros. And ninjas were so much cooler. They are lucky you love them to abandon and seek better, ninja liking friends.

You got over your petty jealousy rather quickly, finding out that rather than sulking, it’s better to watch a documentary about Caesar in Gaul. 

What you say to Kizuchi is true anyway. Atsumu would sulk so fucking much if Osamu decided to not pursue volleyball with him. He can play strong, independent twin all he wants, you know he sometimes still sleeps with Osamu after the three of you watch horrors. You know it because you sleep with them as well, not that you’re super scared because of some fictional serial killer. Not at all! Like, did you see shit that real serial killers do? You are not scared of fiction.

_You are not._

End of the discussion. 

“They look like the type,” she nods and then, she winks at you, causing you a mini heart-attack, “What about you, Date-san? Do you like volleyball too?” 

The way her eyes shine when the word _volleyball_ is mentioned kind of makes you think of Atsumu. Maybe she is a player? You feel your finger coming to rest on your lips automatically before you hastily put it down, reaching for one of your shrimps. 

She is tall, easily towering over you with at least twenty centimeters. No, you are not salty about your height. You are perfectly fine being the way you are. It gives you perfect access to people’s kneecaps anyway. 

Do you like volleyball? Well, that’s a question. Once again, you answer truthfully. 

“I - well, I think it’s fun to watch,” you confess, your cheeks dusting with a pink blush as you admit to that fact, “But I think I’m pretty biased because of SamSam and TsuTsu. I love everything they do, you know?” 

She nods at that, although you can’t help but catch how she winces ever so slightly as you murmur Osamu’s name. Unsure of what you did wrong, the next words stumble out of your tongue really easy, “Do you play volleyball, Kizuchi-san?” 

That’s probably a stupid question. She used to be the council president, there’s no fucking way- 

“I do!” Sara affirms with a happy smile, “I used to play during my first year in middle school before I was chosen as the council president, and I decided to return to it now. I’m benched right now at the girls’ team, but I hope to one day 

“Congratulations then, Kizuchi-san,” you speak out awkwardly, because really, what are you supposed to even say? “I hope to see you on the court,” you add lamely, but Kizuchi doesn’t seem to really care as she shows you another smile. 

“Thank you, Date-san, that’s very kind of you,” no, it’s not, but you bob your head along, not wanting to open your mouth again, “What about you, ever thought of playing?”

Satan protects your precious soul, no. It’s one thing to learn how to play in a safe environment because that’s what you would like to do one day. It’s another thing entirely to play in the club, god damn it. Does she want to scout you to the team, because you are friends with volleyball players? 

_Girl, you come to strange conclusions, if you think I'm a good player ‘cuz Atsu and Osa are. It doesn’t work like that._

“Not really,” you tell her hesitantly, clutching your chopsticks tighter with your fingers, “I’m not a sports type of person.”

Understatement of the century. You are good at many things. You speak English the best in your class. Your marks can get you into the top ten students in the school. Your voice is, according to your former teachers, _angelic_. 

For all those good qualities, though, you paid a hundred times over in your athletic abilities, which are worse than zero. It destroyed your dreams of being a ninja.

 _Nin-nin_ , you think sadly to yourself.

“Do you want to see our practice one day then?” Kizuchi doesn’t leave after that to your surprise, offering you kindly even more friendship. Gods, you want to go. You want to visit her team and befriend her, and maybe have a normal, school life. 

You want it so bad. 

But you remember you are the manager of the volleyball team, and technically, you are very busy. Stupid laundry.

“S–sure. I will visit you when I’m free,” you add hastily to not disappoint your _new friend._ Kizuchi’s smile nearly makes you blind.

* * *

“I can’t believe you discarded our time together, [Name]-chan.” 

“And she did for a girl, of all things.”

“So cruel! Where is our code, our _bros before-?_ ” 

You are at least four parallel universes ahead of him. You toss the ball into the air and catch it. Then, with a sweet, innocent smile you rapidly spin around and hurl it at Atsu’s face. Your aim rings true, but it’s not enough to seriously hurt a cockroach. And Atsu is absolutely a cockroach that would survive nuclear annihilation by the sheer smugness he exhibits. 

Osamu grins at his twin keeling over in pain. If you are honest, his insidious smile causes a spark of irritation to flare inside of you. You reach over to the ball rolling near your legs and throw it at him. He had to be prepared for it because he catches it easily enough. 

“Okay, maybe I deserved it,” he admits, spinning the ball in his hands before throwing it over to one of the baskets. You roll your eyes. 

“Maybe?” you repeat, lacing your words with sarcasm, “Maybe? How about you absolutely did, you little shit? Jealous of me getting friends, huh?!” 

He shrugs sheepishly and you sigh, lowering your back to take more balls into your arms. This time you don’t plan to throw them around - no, you are going to clean out from the floor like a good manager you definitely are not. 

“Tsumu definitely deserved that.” 

“Samu, you traitor!” 

A soft giggle leaves your mouth as Atsumu starts shaking Osamu by his shoulder. The silverette stays still for about a second before he reaches over to the blond’s collar and pulls on it, starting the inevitable fight. 

You are not bothered by the sight in the slightest, way too used to their constant petty rivalry. On further thought, can you talk about that idiocy as a rivalry? In Naruto, the bond between rivals is something truly beautiful and deep! Meanwhile, Osamu and Atsumu are over there aggressively wrestling. Yeah, you are not feeling comfortable with comparing them to Sasuke and Naruto. 

“Can’t betray somebody if I never was on their side, you tyrannical pig!” 

“You Brutus!” 

Wow, he remembers Brutus after all those documentaries you made him watch? Nice going, [Name], maybe you will make a human out of a demon yet. 

On the other side, you don’t wish to join their idiocy, so you shrug your shoulders as you mindlessly bounce towards the evil benches. All of the balls are gone from the court already, which means you can laze about now, probably. You sure hope nobody will ask you to fill the bottles with water again. That would mean walking, _ugh_ , and carrying stuff, even more, _ugh_. 

“Not killing each other during the practice, Atsumu, Osamu,” Kita interjects the stupid fight, walking towards them. You wave at him shyly with your fingers and he stops to nod at you, “Good to see you again, Date-san.” 

“Hi, senpai,” you smile bashfully from your seat, “You are the first one to arrive if you don’t count the court idiots.” 

“Hey, sunny, who are you calling an idiot?” Atsumu stops whatever he was doing with Osamu, to frown at you, “You are talking about Samu, right-”

“She’s talking about you, you idiot,” the response comes from the said’s idiot twin, “Captain, does that mean I can kill Tsumu after the practice?” he questions in deadpan, pushing his twin’s hands out of his shoulder, “I have some ideas for getting rid of the body.” 

“Acid?” you propose easily enough, crossing your legs. You arch your eyebrow when he shakes his head, “Don’t tell me it’s fire. You need a really high temperature to get rid of the body, I thought I taught you better than that.” 

“Nah, lava,” he answers easily, joining you on the bench. You hum appreciatively as you rest your head against the silverette’s arm. Finding an active volcano is not so hard as people may think, after all, though most of them are nowhere near Amagasaki. 

Osa places his hand on your head and strokes it gently while his dumb twin makes his way towards the two of you and plops beside you, his expression glowering You snort at that, pettily sticking your tongue out of your mouth. 

SamSam doesn’t hold back, though, flipping the blond with his free hand and causing you to giggle. 

“I hate both of you,” Atsu comments as he sulks, “I want to formally file a divorce.”

Osamu grunts, disgusted at the sheer motion of being in the relationship with Tsu. Yeah, you don’t really fault him, the thought of being in a relationship with somebody with such a familiar set of DNA sends shivers through your spine. 

“I never got into any marriage with you anyway,” 

“Okay, me and [Name], then.”

Osamu stops playing with your hair and you sigh, very loudly. The afternoon practice didn’t even start and you already want to commit a crime against humanity. The day started so peacefully, but it can never stay this way with the menaces of the society. You sigh, reaching with your hand to Osamu’s palm and keeping it there. 

Your friend doesn’t really have how to punch your second friend, but that doesn’t mean he is not going to engage in a vicious battle of the glares. 

Where did Kita get lost, now? 

“Hey, you gross, gross people,” definitely-not-Kita greets the three of you lazily, hands in the- Your eyes widen as you notice Zombie is holding his hands, not in his pockets, because he doesn’t have any pockets but in his sweatpants, “Can somebody get rid of my body before I throw up from how domestic the three of you are?” 

“Fuck off, Rin,” Osamu tells him gently, only there is nothing gentle about his tone. He doesn’t sound as cutting, though, so maybe you should raise your opinion of the Naruto-hater. He can’t be all that bad if your Osa likes him enough not to show him the middle finger.

Right? 

“Are you jealous, Suna-kun?” 

This is the angle Atsumu is going after? You roll your eyes and tug his sleeve, demanding attention. The blond doesn’t leave you waiting long, offering you his hand. Atsu has pretty nice hands, if you can say so yourself, so you happily participate in playing with them as you ponder on his words. 

Of what exactly should the Dead Boy Walking in front of you be? You are pretty sure he doesn’t have a heart. Yeah, your friendship is pretty awesome, but you doubt somebody out of it would understand how much the three of you actually care. 

Suna’s dead fish eyes land on you and you just fidget uncomfortably under his eyes. They have such strange, light color, and the boy leaves you very much unsettled. 

You don’t know what his problem is, though. 

“You are still alive,” you comment, averting your eyes, “Can’t get rid of an alive body. Do you know what a haste it is to bury somebody alive? Seriously. And your victim can still escape and tattle on you to the police. Unprofessional job if you ask me.” 

Atsumu flickers your forehead with his free hand. You hiss, not expecting that at all, and shot him a quick glare. 

“Too much information, sweetheart,” he says in lieu of explanations, but that explains jack-shit. If people don’t want to hear about a murder, why do they start talking about that? 

“Every day brings me closer to death, though,” Zombie drools on, dropping his weight on the floor and taking his phone out of, well, _somewhere_. You can’t really discern how it appears in his hands, it just does. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Osa asks impassively, his hand dropping out of your hair. You whine, uncontented with the sudden lack of friendship and magic, and love. Osamu’s lips turn up in a soft smile, but he doesn’t return to stroking your hair.

The audacity of this bitch. You huff, irritated, and focus more on Atsu’s palms, intervening them with your and lightly squeezing them. With the corner of your eye, you notice that the older twin’s cheeks are suddenly dusted in pink. 

You bat your eyelids, not knowing why the hell he feels suddenly so bashful. 

“If I was in paradise, I would be already dead,” Suna answers lazily and you scoff. You don’t know what they are talking about, and to be honest, you don’t particularly care. 

Wait, wait, wait! Maybe Naruto-hater is secretly a ninja and this is why he hates Naruto? Because it tells people all of his secret-ninja-techniques and he is salty that he can’t kage-bushin-no-jutsu his way out of the trouble anymore?! That-that is genius. Brilliant, if you dare to say so yourself. You just cracked the code. 

_Mr. Kishimoto, we did it,_ you think with emotion, _We did._

“Don’t die, Rintarou,” the voice cuts in and you suddenly notice that the gym is full of people. Like, okay, not full-full, because that fucking gym is super big, but well, there are a lot of the club members. You even see Kita, ordering some first-years to bring the net out. 

Haha, that’s your job, you think.

Well, anyway-

The one who so-rudely intruders on your conversation is Edgar Allan Poe. Only, Edgar Allan Poe is dead, and instead, it is Allan from the Inarizaki’s volleyball club. Honestly, you don’t know much about him, but you are pretty damn sure the boy has to be in the third year. He is easily the one who looks, well, the _manliest_ out of the bunch which is strange to say about somebody shorter than twins. 

Yeah, he is still taller than you, but so is the rest of the world, so it doesn’t mean much. 

“You like to see good in people, Aran,” Suna explains dryly as he plays with his phone, “You should really stop holding on to me, though. Just let me die already in peace.” 

“Somebody has to be,” Aran shrugs, sitting down next to Osamu. The younger twins yawns and offers him a fist bump that the older boy easily take, “Do I have to call your mom again?”

“That will mean I have to talk to her,” Zombie answers disgruntled from the floor, “Please don’t.” 

“Anyway, ignoring your stupid problems,” Atsu flickers his free hands at them as he turns to you, “Who was the pig that stole you away, sunshine? Need her name, so I can politely inform her that I don’t appreciate squealing pigs stealing _my_ childhood friend _._ ” 

Why does he talk about you like you are about to be seized by the Soviet Union? That fool, the USSR is dead! 

“Go fuck yourself,” you tell him softly, not even raising your head, “And don’t call _Ki_ -her like that. She was very kind to me, you asshole.” 

You nearly slip and that doesn’t escape his attention, though you are sure that there are way too many girls with names starting with Ki- to help him much. He arrives at the same conclusion and clicks his lips, not very much keen on your answer. You stick your tongue at him again. 

“She is right, Tsumu, fuck off,” Osamu agrees with easily, and so you preen, challenging Atsumu with your glare. Your joy doesn’t last for long, though, as you suddenly find yourself falling down on the silverette’s lap. Your hand tears apart from Atsu and you squeal, taken by surprise, “Darling,” he calls to your softly, placing his hands on your hair and caressing it gently, “Tell your best friend - that’s me, not Tsumu - all about that little viper, right?” 

“What the heck, Samu!” 

Tsu cries, outraged, but you ignore him and huff. An annoyance washes through you and so, you reach over to poke his forehead harshly, “She is not a viper, either, SamSam!” 

“Vixen, then?” the younger twin proposes easily, completely missing the point. You poke him again in revenge. 

“Oh, go to hell, you two,” you exhale, “I can get a friend if I want to, you know! Stop being jealous, get your own friend.” 

“You are our friend,” Atsu whines pathetically at your side, “Nobody is going to take my sunshine away from me.” 

That last portion sounds strangely grave and you hate that _so much_. Overprotective idiots. 

“I’m going to stop be one if you don’t fucking shut up.”

That’s a stupid point and so, you are going to completely ignore that. What a dumb reason to team up against you. They have Kita, and probably Zombie, and the rest of the team. What is wrong with you getting a friend on your own, even if that friendship is something out of your league? 

“You would never, you love us too much, [Name]-chan,” Tsu drawls on, smirking cockily and you hate how right he is. You puff your cheeks and cross your arms, though your silent anger probably doesn’t look like much when you are still lying on Osa’s laps. His grin grows wider as he turns around, “What, are you jealous of our precious friendship, Rin-kun?”

“Gross,” comes the muffled voice from the ground, “Don’t call me that ever again, demon.”

Pettily, that makes you want to call him that too. How could it not? Osamu smiles at you as if he is reading your thoughts. Knowing him, he probably is. You bring your hand up and tap his nose with your finger. 

“Oh, yeah, I was confused about that. Atsumu, Osamu,” the cheerful voice of one of the club members flickers in your ears. You heard it before, but you can’t quite place it, and so, it continues, “Which one of you is dating Date-san?” 

The ground trembles. Or maybe, it’s just you. Your face becomes red, so, so red that you are very much glad that you can’t see yourself. You can’t say that about other people, though, so without thinking much, you tumble, trying to hide your face. 

Yeah, not your brightest idea. 

Osamu tries to catch you, but he is not fast enough. The clamor of your body hitting reverberates across the gym. For a second you just lie, content with being one with the floor, before the storm of feet comes to you. Somebody – oh, those are yours somebodies – lifts your lifeless body into their arms. 

You blink, slowly comprehending the words spoken minutes ago. 

_Which one of you is dating Date-san?_ the question echoes through your mind. Interesting, you guess, You didn’t know there’s another person named Date in the club. What a crazy coincidence, but it’s not like you have a monopoly on that last name. There has to be a lot of Dates in Japan, right? 

You don’t remember Kita ever speaking about somebody sharing your last name, though. Maybe that member was not in the club at the time? Or were they sick? Who knows, it’s not your problem. 

“Hey, sunshine? Do you hear me?”

You are a little bit sad that none of them told you about this secret lover, though. Like, they know you love them the way they are, right? You had no problem accepting Atsu’s girlfriend that one time, so you would support any relationship they have will all of your heart. You just want them to be happy, after all. 

“She’s breathing, calm down, idiot. Darling, are you all alright? Do you need me to get a nurse? Or to punch Tsumu?”

But it is not wrong of Akagi to out them like that? You should punch him, alright. You are going to- wait, wait, punch Atsu? Hell yeah, you want to see Tsu getting punched! You nod, your eyes sparkling as you love to Osamu’s face, “Please punch Tsu.”

“She’s alright,” Osamu exclaims calmly. To your utter disappointment, he does not punch Tsumu. Instead, he helps you go up to the bench. Is it not strange how the floor is actually softer than any of those benches? 

Wait, is that important? You didn’t see Atsumu getting punched. You sulk at that as you tug on Osamu’s sleeve, “Are you are really dating somebody with the same last name as me? Talk about awkward.”

Yeah, that’s awkward alright. A pity for them rouses in your chest. You hear somebody snicker, and you are not sure, but you think it’s Zombie. 

“Date-san, I don’t think that’s what Michinari was saying,” Aran comments from beside Atsumu, his forehead drenched in sweat as he tries to salvage this strange, strange situation, “How I’m supposed to say that-” 

“ _Dating_ ,” Zombie interrupts bluntly. You shift your gaze to him and find him not even looking up from his phone, “He is asking which one of those losers are you _dating_. That strange, little threesome is too much for him.” 

_Threesome?_

Threesome. What is he suggesting? He can’t be talking about-about-about. Your face catches fire. You have to cover your face with your hands before deciding you are way too embarrassed to be out of the open. You don’t want to see any of your clubmates’ reaction to your freakout, so you spin around and slam into Atsu’s chest, essentially hiding. 

“Dating?” you repeat, your voice muffled by emotions. You sound super panicked, maybe, because you are panicking, “Dating? Me, me, me? But I’m not-”

“You are the most beautiful person in the world,” Osamu interjects, not letting you end the sentence. His voice is full of fondness before he changes into something malicious and evil as he directs his next words, “Rin, if you say one more word, I’m going to fucking skin you alive. Shut up, you shit. Not another word. Fuck you.” 

Suna only arches his eyebrow up. You can’t help the giggle that escapes your mouth. 

“Michinari-kun, you are such a pervert,” Atsumu hums, a mocking smile on his face as he rests his arm on your head. You nod fervently, agreeing with your friend, “Poor [Name] straight-up fainted because she was so scandalized.”

“That would be incest. Didn’t know you’re into that,” Osamu yawns, acting as if nothing is out of normal, “You are such a freak, it doesn’t really surprise me, though. Don’t come closer, freak. Freak, freak, freak-”

“Hey, you jerk-”

“You are not actually related,” Akagi points up, carelessly. The way he speaks makes you think that none of them even notices how you tremble, “Seriously, Osamu! There are so many rumors, throw us a bone! We’re in the same club.” 

“I told you not to speak about it in front of Tsumu, Akagi. He is very delicate.”

“I will show you _delicate_ , Samu!”

Atsumu doesn’t move, though, just takes you into his arms and hugs your tighter. You raise your head and seek Osamu’s gaze. The silverette meets you head-on, raising his chin in silent question. You bob your head, trying to communicate you are fine. 

Osa twists his lips into a thin line, seemingly not believing you, but before he can react, the same cheerful voice throws in, “You didn’t answer my question!” 

Can Akagi shut up for five minutes, pretty please with cheery on the top? He is already on your victims’ list, what else does he want to achieve here?

“That’s because we’re friends, you fucking nitwit,” Osamu rolls his eyes, “Seriously, get lost. As if I would let somebody like Tsumu date my best friend. She deserves much better than him.” 

“Somebody like me? What is that supposed to mean, Samu?!” Atsumu growls and you find your fingers tugging on his shirt to calm him down. It doesn’t work, not really, because his tone becomes mocking as he asks, “Hey, we never decided who is going to marry [Name], right, Samu?”

Fuck. You groan into his shirt, loudly. He can never let it go, can he? Has to always bring it up in awkward times, rub salt into your old wounds, and embarrass you so fucking much you want to close yourself in the apartment and throw away the key.

You can imagine the question marks forming above the club members’ heads and without much choice, you tear yourself away from Atsu and spin around, looking at thrilled Akagi, long-suffering Aran, uninterested Zombie, and three more people your names don’t remember. 

“Don’t get this out of context, okay?” you nervously tap your fingers against Atsu’s arm, your cheeks pink, “It was in the elementary school! It happened a long time ago, and it’s not true anyway!” 

“Hey, I remember it being true-” 

It was not. Your fingers jab into the blonde’s skin, making him pause. 

It was all Mama Miya’s fault. For some reason, she told them that the queen was always the family of the king. Self-proclaimed kings of the playground took it as the challenge, of course, and they decided that you, their Queen-

“They started to argue about who will marry you?” Zombie muffles, “That’s pretty cliche.”

You whip your head at him, “No. They decided I’m their sister before Shiina-nee destroyed everything by saying that doesn’t work this way. Then, they started to argue who will marry me.” 

That whole argument was pretty damn stupid if you can say yourself. Atsumu didn’t even like you so much, but he refused to back down when it came to fighting with his twin. Little you didn’t like them acting this way in the slightest, and well- It’s true they never agreed who will marry you. But that’s not because they suddenly didn’t want to fight. Rather than that, little you, in her messy braid and dirty gown from song’s contest, decided to reject them both. 

Why? God, now the worst part of this whole story. The most humiliating detail. The one you never live from at any family’s meeting. The only person you ever wanted to marry was Kakashi Hatake.

Can somebody blame you, though? Not really. Kakashi Hatake is still a very much handsome man. Only he is not real. His only true flaw. 

You cast your eyes downcast, not wanting to say anything about it aloud. You sure hope twins will stay quiet too because there is no way you will be able to live through their judging gazes. 

“And nobody won?” Akagi questions, still undeterred, “Damn, so all of that gossip is no true? Minato seemed so sure.” 

“I would say that I won,” Atsumu informs them all, taking the strand of your hair and twirling it around his finger, “After all, I’m much better perspective for marriage, am not, sunny? Be honest, who would you marry out of the two of us now?” 

He sends you an arrogant grin and you frown, reaching over to pinch his cheek. 

“I’m going with Shiina-nee if I want to become Miya,” you inform him cheekily, “She, at the very least, knows who Caligula was.” 

“Welcome to the friendzone, comrade Demon,” Suna calls to him, “Have a star for trying.” 

The boy with grey hair next to him snickers gleefully, behaving like an evil fox. Atsu narrows his eyes, making Sam sigh loudly. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” the voice of Kurosu shocks all of the team, “Enough of being teenagers. I’m not getting any younger and you are getting even more troublesome with every minute. Go back to practice.”

“Aye, aye, sensei!”

Most of the team is smart enough to not question their older coach, but of course, there are exceptions to this. _Your_ exceptions.

“How are we supposed to stop being teenagers?” Tsu questions, raising his eyebrow, “Are we supposed to drop dead, teacher? Is that you recommend to you young, easily influenceable people? What would our dear headmaster say?” 

“I’m in,” Rin moans out, “Death-”

“- _and damnation_ ,” you continue the song easily, “ _The fleet is coming. He was made to rule the seven seas_ ~ “

“Date, please,” Kurosu sighs loudly, “Don’t make me hate you so fast, please.”

You pursue your lips in a pout, “But, teacher, the sinking of Bismarck-”

You want to tell him so much about the ship. About Oscar, of course, the Bismarck’s cat, but also about the hunt for the battleship and how much more of Chad it was compared to pff, Titanic, or any other ship. Even Yamamoto was nothing compared to the ship named after the Iron Chancellor. 

You don’t have a chance to start a lecture about it or Otto von Bismarck because you are cut by the harsh voice of Kurosu, “If that’s not about any dog, then I don’t care, Date.” 

Your shoulders slump. Okay, now you feel sad. Wrinkling your nose, you look around for something to do to fight your misery. Laundry is done, for now. The balls are being used, so fuck you. Bottles, you suppose, you can re-fill them or something. 

“Now, stop lazying around, Suna. You too, Miya. 

“Which one?” the twins ask at the same time, showing their synchronized attack. They then both tilt their heads, acting as perfect clones. You click your lips and stand up, having enough of their bullshiterry. 

“Both.” 

Twins share a look and then shrug, before standing up. They still don’t start, well, practicing, but Suna, you notice, starts crawling towards the net. A drop of sweat falls from your forehead. You hope nobody will step on him. 

Or maybe not. You still are a little bit unsure about this particular Naruto-hater. He is better than Akagi, but that’s not really saying much.

“Can’t we have a practice match?” Atsumu moans loudly, stretching his arms, “I’m bored. Let’s crush somebody, coach.” 

“Whose do you think it is that fault that all of Hyogo refuses to practice with us?” Kurosu asks, sighing loudly as he sits down, “I don’t know how you do that. I would be impressed if only that didn’t mean I have so much more work.” 

You tilt your head, confused. It’s hard to understand that every school in the prefecture would refuse to play with _the_ Inarizaki. You understand that reputation alone can intimidate people, but you would guess at least a few would want to fight against people who nearly won the Nationals. So, why-

Oh. Your trashy friends, probably. 

“Samu’s,” your blond trashy friend answers the question that was not supposed to be answered, “They are all cowards. We should invite somebody who actually can play. Maybe Itachiyama or Shiratorizawa.” 

You didn’t hear about Shiratorizawa, but there was no way you didn’t know about the Itachiyama Institute. It’s one of the schools rivaling Inarizaki, but most importantly, your brother used to attend that school. How could you not know that? He never shut up about that, talking about how much better his school was compared to your old middle school. You didn’t exactly listen to him attentively, so you can’t be called an expert on it, too busy with lego blocks and your ponies. 

But you know one thing: You really, really hate the fucker and that means everything about Itachiyama never fails to bring a shiver of disgust through your spine. 

You turn towards Atsumu, linking your hands behind your back. Osamu, as if sensing your distress, is at your side in a manner of seconds. He doesn’t say anything, only bumps his shoulder against you in the soothing gesture of friendship. 

“Shiratorizawa is in Tohoku and Itachiyama is in Kantō,” your coach comments dryly, making you wince. You are not going there, no way. It’s practically the other side of Japan, “How are they supposed to get to Amagasaki? Have any teleporter on the side?” 

The answer doesn’t come, because 

“You know Miyagi is on the other side of Japan, right?” comes the long drawl from Suna, “More than eleven hours on the bus, right?”

“About eleven,” you nod, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “And it’s five-six to Tokyo.” 

“Give it up, Tsumu,” Osamu waves his hand off dismissively, “You are not going to have a match with Sakusa or Ushiwaka before the Nationals.” 

You have no idea who those people are, so you don’t react. Atsumu is undeterred in his plan, no matter how much moronic it makes him seen. He places his hand on his chin, nodding as if he has come to some great solution to the problem. Kurosu looks at him, expectedly. 

“How about we go to them, then? Our school is rich-” 

You hide your face in your hands. 

Gods, devils, demons, angels, the Great Old Ones, why, oh why, did you decide that fateful day to kick Atsumu from the swings? Maybe you have given him irreplaceable damage and this is why he is so, so, so _silly_ to say delicately. Let’s go to fucking Tokyo, who cares about school, expenses, living conditions, food, transport? 

Thankfully, you are all saved from losing any more brain cells by Kita’s swift arrival. The captain looks over all of you, before directing his cold gaze towards Kurosu and you swear your coach shivers under the presence of the boy half his age. 

“Didn’t Kaisei and Sakuragaki agree to have matches with us?” he inquiries, calmly. Kurosu fidgets before he looks straight at you and Osamu. 

You shrug, not knowing what the fuck does he want. The silverette by your side only yawns, uninterested. He is probably thinking about food. 

“They withdrew,” Kurosu finally admits, exhaling deeply, “Someone, supposedly two of our players and one of our students, got into Kaisei’s private café and demolished it.”

“Their food sucked,” Osamu explains very much helpfully, “Wouldn’t serve something like that even to a trash like Tsumu.”

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean, Samu, you pig?”

“Exactly what you heard.”

Kaisei. Yeah, that sounds a little bit familiar. You bring your finger to your lips, wondering where exactly you heard this name before. 

“Was this a place with awful bagels?” you question, a little bit unsure. Osa nods before bringing his palm to ruffle his twin hair. The blond groans, trying to wave him off, “But wait, that happened before I was admitted to the Inarizaki.” 

You nearly can taste those things people dared to call bagels on your tongue. They were served with rotten cream, you are pretty damn sure. You promptly coughed that disgusting pieces of bread off, but you were too late to stop the twins from eating them. In the end, Osamu threw up, causing both you and Atsumu to cause the ruckus. 

The poor underpaid waitress started to cry and threaten the police, so the three of you decided to tactically retreat. No police charges were pressed, thank goodness, mostly because the twins told the manager they would sue them for poisoning if they tried.

“Not exactly the point, Date,” Kurosu points up, and your expression twists in displeasure, “I don’t even want to know, so stop,” he adds when he notices your face. Sighing, he turns to Kita once more, “Sakuragaki never specified why they don’t want to play with us, but it’s probably your their fault too.” 

Sakuragaki. Yeah, you remember Sakuragaki. Jointly, without any words or even looks, the three of you decide to not talk about That incident. Atsumu starts to whistle nonchalantly, Osamu starts stretching and you, in a totally not-suspicious-manner, try to pull a ninja and sneak off. 

“Date-san,” Kita calls after you, freezing the blood in your veins. You smile at him awkwardly, “Osamu, Atsumu,” the twins very overtly avert his gaze, “Tell me what happened,” he orders, coldly, causing your skin to prickle a bit. 

Damn him. Damn him and his astute observation skills. 

“Why are you looking at us, captain?” Atsumu poorly tries to misdirect both Kita and the coach, "Don’t you trust us? We’re perfect angels, incapable of doing anything evil or bad. Just ask our mother, she will tell everything.” 

“It’s always you three,” Kita answers, not amused in the slightest. Misdirection is not effective on Kita, it seems, “What exactly happened?” 

What does he mean it’s always you three? You are innocent. Not guilty, Your Honor, this is how you plead. There is no evidence to state otherwise. What he says is nothing but slander, and that, dear captain, is a crime. 

“I joined just yesterday!” you cry, as you try to defend yourself, raising hands protectively in front of you, “How is any of that my fault?”

“That’s because we already know your character,” Suna drags his sentence a bit, before showing you his resting bitch face, “Didn’t take so long.” 

You crave to take this stupid expression out of his face. By force, of course. Wasn’t he suppose to crawl away, anyway? Why is he still lying near you? You growl at him, before taking several unsure steps in the general direction of Osamu and Atsumu. 

Then, you book it for their side, hiding behind them as you grasp the hems of their shirts. There, you finally feel so much safer. It tells a lot of your friendship that they don’t even blink at your antics, letting you do as you want. 

“How were we supposed to know our actions have consequences anyway?” Atsumu’s expression changes into something darker as he rubs his hair in the nervous habit of his, “He was the one who started it. Who the hell tries to manhandle a cute, little girl when she did nothing wrong?”

There is still the edge of the fury in his tone, though it’s coated by slick words. You don’t blame him. You are pretty angry yourself and would love to kick the bastard one more time. Just to make sure he never makes babies and populate the earth with his stupid genes. 

“About who are you talking exactly, Atsumu?” 

Atsumu sighs, not so keen on answering. 

“The captain of the Sakuragaki team,” Osamu says instead of him, not even trying to hide the bloodthirst out of his face, “Big fucking loser. Bigger even than fucking Tsumu. Didn't think it's possible.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, Samu?”

“No.” 

“Jerk.” 

You lean your head from behind Osamu, “I think his name is Ogata or something.” 

“There’s not Ogata in Sakuragaki’s team,” Kita informs your curtly, “Their captain name is Onigazuka, though.” 

“Practically the same,” you murmur under your breath. Kita narrows his eyes at you and yeah, he really can be similar to the Terminator sometimes. You fluster under his gaze, and awkwardly tap your foot against the floor, “What was I supposed to do anyway? He insulted AtsuAtsu and called Sam-chan names. He even commented about my c-chest in a vulgar manner.” 

You are not going to repeat those words, but needless to say, he needed an operation or two after you were able to get Osamu out of him. You don’t think you even saw your friend so furious before. 

Nonetheless, Kita is not impressed in the slightest as he raises his single eyebrow at you, “What exactly happened, Date-san?”

Chtulhu, what sort of trial is that? What does he want from you? Yes, you are very sorry that this Ogata fellow ended up in a hospital, honest. Okay, not honest, you are crossing your fingers under the table. The asshole deserved that, after what he said, 

Talk shit, get shit. That is the rule of the streets. Ogata talked too much shit and ended provoking the wrong people. You are easy to rile up and very impulsive. Short-tempered, they even used to call you, before you punched those stupid kids in their ugly little faces. 

Peace is sometimes not an option, you know that very well. Murder, on the other side, is a completely different thing. 

You love Osamu and Atsumu with all of your heart, and this is why you attacked the jerk. You never wanted to see them look defeated or sad. Bruises on your body were nothing compared to the smiles or laughs they gave you. 

“I kicked him,” you finally confess, your hands clutching the shirts of the twins, “I’m not sorry about that, Kita-senpai. You are not going to make me.” 

There is a profound silence in the gym before he meets your gaze. Some words form on his lips, but before he can say them aloud, he changes his mind. You look at him with your [color] eyes and blink, not knowing how to read his expression. 

“Date-san,” he starts cautiously, “Are you alright?” 

Your hair. [Color] locks on the floor, tore up by hand with long, long nails-

Only Ogata didn’t have long nails at all. You yelped as the insult rolled through his lips, one hand pulling your hair while the other came to your throat. Your fingers curled, and you aimed them straight into his eyes-

Eyes are so delicate, after all. Always go for the eyes. 

“Of course, we would protect our little, fragile sunflower,” Atsumu is fast too agree, a smile on his face too pretty to be genuine, “Yeah, she is stupid, and shouldn’t do things like that without saying the word, but she always was the delinquent.”

“I don’t agree with this assessment,” Osamu cuts in, sharply as his hand comes to give you a headpat, “[Name] did nothing wrong in her life and I love her.”

You brighten visibly and send in his direction the sweetest smile you can muster as you hid your face in his shirt, “Sam-chan, you are the bestest.”

“I have to earn my favorite status somehow,” he ruffles your hair fondly and you giggle happily, the sound muffled once more. You don’t care about that, though, way too happy about being near your friend. 

“Well, at least now it all makes sense,” Kurosu lets a long-suffering sigh escape his mouth, “Onigazuka was reported in a hospital with _severe_ injuries.” 

“Deserved!” the three of you intone at the same time, sounding way too proud for your dubious achievement. Hey, nobody ever claimed any of you was a good person. You are probably the exact opposite of somebody like that. 

“Your _deserved_ means we don’t have practice matches, so thank you for that,” Kurosu exclaims exhausted, “At least I have much more time to spend with my dog.”

There is pregnant silence in the gym, as even balls come to the stop at this statement. You shrug, as you glance at the rest of the, ducking your face behind Osamu once more. To your surprise, you are met with the sight of the captain of your club. 

He comes closer to you and opens his mouth, his words surprisingly soft, “Date-san, can I take a moment of your time?”

You blink slowly as you release the material of your friend’s clothes and take a step back. You shot Osamu and Atsumu a glance, and they both nod at you. 

“I-I guess?”

Ogata totally deserved those broken bones and nothing he will say will not change your mind. If he wants to give you a lecture about how _violence is not an answer_ he can get lost. You know it is not. It’s a question, said the great internet philosopher, and you know that at that time, the answer was absolute _yes_. 

You waddle after him awkwardly, letting him lead you out of the gym and then to the building belonging to the volleyball team. 

“There is no reason to be nervous, Date-san,” he informs you, his tone calm as you follow after him through the corridor, “I’m not there to scold you. I believe that you and the twins did the best thing you could at the time.” 

Can he read your thoughts now? 

“Y-yuppie yup, haha.” 

He doesn’t look like a psychic, okay, but you should never judge the book from its’ corner. You shuffle your feet awkwardly as he stops under the door you never walked in before. He swiftly opens them and switches the light on. 

There is nothing much to say about the room, to be honest. It’s just a room with shelves, chests, and drawers. He reaches over to one of those shelves. It’s so high you would be able to lean so high without a ladder, so you feel a little baffled when he takes a bag with Inarizaki’s two foxes on it. 

Carefully, he opens it and takes out the carefully folded material in the color of burgundy. It looks a little bit like it is made of silk, so soft it grazes his fingers, so your bewilderment rises when he offers it to you with a slight nod of his head. 

You tilt your head at that, unsure and confused. 

“It's a volleyball club’s jacket,” he explains calmly, “I couldn’t give it to you early, because it only arrived during the lessons. The whole bag is for you, but I thought it would be more fitting to offer you a jersey myself,” the words, somehow, are inexplicably kind and your heart beats faster, “Thank you for becoming our manager, Date-san.” 

A soft smile grows on his face. Maybe that’s the reason why you take it, hesitantly and slowly, but you do reach for it. The material that looked so silken, so light is much tougher than you expected. You unfold it carefully, spreading it to all its length to look at it better. It seems to be in your size, so it’s a lot smaller than one for boys, but yeah. 

A little noise leaves your mouth. 

You recognize it, of course, you do, how could you not? Both Atsumu and Osamu wear it all the time. The first time you saw it, a year ago - though it feels like centuries - it was when they got into the team. You remember their smiles: Atsu’s so wide it hid all of his face and Osamu, much subtler, but just as happy. 

Apprehension fills you as you turn it over, nervously thoughts making you tap your feet on the floor as you gaze at the see words embedded into the back of it. In all of its’ glory, it’s the jersey belonging to the team you are supposedly a member of. 

_Inarizaki High Volleyball Team_ , it exclaims boldly to the world. You put your hand closer to it, slowly tracing words with your finger. 

It’s just a simple cloth.

And yet. 

And _yet_. 

You’re such a weird girl, are you not? You can buy something similar in a shop. Or meh, you can get something even better. It will not make you look particularly pretty. It will not fit you like a fiddle. It doesn’t belong to you, not truly, just like you don’t belong to the volleyball team. 

So, really, you don’t understand yourself. Such a weirdo, [Name]. Why, oh, why does it feel like Kita just handed you over the world? 

Your hands clutch the jacket tighter and you find yourself bringing it closer to your chest until you are practically hugging you. 

You don’t know those volleyball players so well. You had, what, two conversations with them? They are still strangers, still intimidating, and still annoying. You don’t care about them, not really. How can you care about somebody you don’t know? You joined because of twins. You joined because Kita said it’s alright for you to do so. You joined because you wanted to. 

This jacket bearing the color of Burgundy; it’s so little, so small, so not enough. A little bit like you. It should be worthless to you, and yet, it means so much. 

It was always quiet, that desire of yours, that greed of yours. You didn’t let the yearning leave your friends, too scared, too jaded. The scars could heal, but they would never quite leave you alone, which is why that plea of yours, wish for friends you don’t deserve, was left unvoiced. 

You were scared. You still are. Terrified, to be honest. You want to curl and cry, but you have no idea if your tears would come from the fear or from the warmth Kita offered you so effortlessly. 

_Kita_ , your mind beckons you, _Try with him._

“Kita-senpai?” you call out hesitantly. You feel his eyes lingering on your figure, those brown eyes looking straight into your soul. Isn’t it strange how everything about him screams that you should escape? That he is cold, cold murder? Everything, that’s it, but his eyes, so warm and freezing at the same time. 

The captain of the Inarizaki team is a little like the final boss. Defeat him, and the rest of the team will follow - or, that is what you hope. You twist your lips, unsure and so, so full of fear. 

There is a dangerous idea on the edge of your mind, something reckless and bold, and so unlike you. You don’t know what propels you to do that - the memory of yesterday, the stupid desire of being part of something, the desperate need to have friends in this friendless world. 

“W-Would you mind if I called you by your first name?” you stutter out, your fists grasping onto material so tightly it definitely creates the wrinkles across it. You don’t care about that, though, too much absorbed to hear Kita’s answer, even if you find yourself unable to meet his eyes. 

You never called anybody but your family and twins by their first names. But if Kita can hand you this, the heart of this club, so easily - how can you not at least try? 

You want to be friends with him. You want to be friends with everybody in the club.

Nervously, your index finger taps against the jacket. The answer doesn’t come for a second or two, causing your heartbeat to accelerate. You awkwardly shuffle and lift your eyes, coming to look at him just as he twists his lips, opening them in a quiet gasp. 

There are tears in the corners of your eyes and you hastily wipe them away with your fingers, your precious, precious jacket of the team left hanging on your arm. 

You can nearly smell rejection in the air. You wish you could have slapped the past you in the face. What was she thinking, the idiot? That you would be accepted by those elites so readily when you are just worthless nobody? That they would want you back, just because Osamu and Atsumu love you? 

You are such an idiot-

“Of course.” 

A high-pitched resounds around you and it is difficult to understand that this squeal came from your throat. You combust, your blood set aflame as the understanding that this strange, embarrassing sound came from you. 

Your gaze was averted, but you are pretty damn sure that his lips moved, just a second ago. You swear you had to hear something wrong, though. It’s impossible, after all, for him to agree to such a stupid, stupid request coming from you. 

“I don’t mind,” he continues mercilessly and you lift your eyes, finally looking at him. The corners of his ears, you see, are red, redder than the jersey you hold in your arms, “You are my precious underclassman too, Date-san.”

An abrupt pause comes with the snap of the fingers, only nobody truly snaps them. 

“[Name], Shinsuke-senpai,” you fix the sentence nearly mindlessly, correcting him with a soft tone, “Please, call me [Name]. I-I really would like you to.” 

“Alright, [N-Name].” 

You feel so giddy, suddenly, as if the weight you didn’t know you carried disappeared. Without thinking much, you throw your new jersey around your shoulder and stiff the giggle threatening to escape your mouth from sheer mirth.

“Okie, Shinsuke.” 

You don’t remember when was the last time you felt so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: is a nervous wreck  
> Kita: already signing adoption papers  
> Suna: Oh my god.
> 
> The unreliable narrator is one of those really fun things to write. Atsumu giving Reader his shirt to wear is a little bit more than “hey, we forgot to take [Name]’s top, so let’s give her ours”. He is a manipulative little bastard and for once, Osamu didn’t fight him too much about it (they played rock, paper, scissors over whose shirt it is gonna be, and nearly killed each other when Osamu lost lmao).
> 
> Thank you for the kudos! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!
> 
> The chapter was edited on 17.01.21.


	7. In which the twins train (or rather, they try to kill each other, nothing new).

As you look back to the mirror, you can’t help but think that you actually look like a good, responsible manager, not the walking disaster you truly are. 

It’s strange, looking into the mirror and thinking you actually do look nice even if the clothes you wear are not really attractive. You are wearing a simple, grey T-shirt that belonged to one of the twins once upon a time. It’s way oversized on your figure but somehow seems kind of cute with a maroon jersey and white pants. You can never go wrong with a white and red combo, you guess. 

Still, it feels nice. It smells nice. It is nice. Like you belong. Maybe, just maybe, you do. Well, you have Atsumu and Osamu on this team. And Shinsuke, you guess. 

A little blush appears on your face. You cover your face with your hand. Cthulhu, the _mortification_ you feel is hard to stomach. You still cannot believe that you tried to befriend this Kita Shinsuke and that-that it worked, god damn it. You may have a friend or at the very least an acquaintance instead of a colleague. 

You have no idea how to proceed, though. Well, starting by returning to the gym seems like a given. Your lips twist in a crooked smile and you move towards the doors of the changing room. You open it lightly and slide through.

“[Name].” 

You jump in the fright and swirl around, your face slamming into something. Shrieking, you stumble back and hit your head against what you think is a wall. That, unfortunately, hurts way too much than you expected. Soft whimper leaves your lips and you move your hands to your head nearly instinctually, but before they reach it, somebody takes hold of your wrist, bringing you closer to the chest you bumped into before. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ You fluster instantly, humiliation rising in your throat as you try to fight back the pain echoing through your head. 

“Stay still,” comes the order and you try your best to follow, like a good soldier, only you are not a soldier and somebody is touching you- 

The touch on the top of your hair is strangely delicate for a kidnapper/murder, so you open your eyes that were closed from the pain only to came face to face with Shinsuke Kita, looking down on your head and inspecting it carefully for any injuries. 

His hands feel very much cold as he strokes his finger through your hair. You know he doesn’t mean it as the gesture of affection, and yet, you blush furiously, not expecting somebody so unfamiliar to you to care so much about your safety. 

“There’s no blood,” he informs you calmly, “How do you feel?” 

He casts his eyes down, just so those brown, freezing irises meet yours. An awkward giggle leaves your mouth and your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt as you hastily avert your gaze away from him.

You are way too self-conscious with him being so close. Way too close. Remember that time you felt nice? Yeah, suddenly you don’t think you look so pretty anymore and you want nothing else but disappear from the

“Like complete disaster,” you utter softly, more to yourself than to Shinsuke. He clears his throat, as if not knowing what to say, so you tap your foot awkwardly on the floor and clasp your hands near your heart, “Sorry about that, Shinsuke. I just got a little bit spooked.” 

It’s nearly miraculous that you don’t stutter at that. Maybe the whole mortified thing makes it easier to speak? Hmm, even if it’s true, you don’t really want to even feel like that all the time. The nerves simmer in your stomach, so you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you lift your eyes.

“I’m fine, thank you for waiting for me,” you say, turning your lips upwards, “Let’s go back, right?” you wrinkle your nose as he still stays silent, rooted to his place. His hands are still on your head, but they are motionless so you bite down on your cheek. Hesitantly, you reach to his wrist, “Are you fine, Shinsuke?” 

For a blink of an eye, you see his face becoming heated, but before you can even wonder about it, he takes his hand back and turns around, making you question if it even happened or was it all your imagination. 

Shinsuke clears his throat, “Yes, let’s go back, [N-Name.”

You shrug at the weirdness. Who are you to judge people for their strange quirks?

* * *

“Hey, the walking headaches, Kita, and, well, Date,” your coach smiles in the fatherly way that doesn’t suit his words at all. He summons the team, beckoning the boys with his hand, “Hurry up, beasts, I want to go back to Momo-chan already.” 

You lift your head, still munching on your last Pocky stick as you sneakily pack the empty package into your pocket. You will throw it away later, it’s not like you are going to let this trash stain your new jersey. 

You tug your hair behind your ears, waiting for the members of the volleyball team to gather. Twins, of course, can’t behave like ordinary people and you watch as Atsumu drags an impassive looking Osamu by his collar. Suna, to your amusement, follows them, filming the whole process. 

“I would lie if I said that I expected that sort of synchronicity between the team,” Kurosu continues and you hastily straighten your back, pretending you are paying attention to whatever he is saying, “We just formed, kids, stop having talent and give us old-timers something to complain about.” 

Your club’s advisor stands up and joins your coach, still smiling, “I can find something to complain about, don’t worry, Norimune-san. First, your characters-”

You cover your mouth with your hand and stifle a giggle.

You agree. Their characters leave _a lot_ to complain about, but it’s not like somebody will see you nodding along. Mostly because the thought alone makes you very much nervous. Just all of those gazes trained at you - no, thank you, you are going to sit over there in silence. 

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you, Tarou,” the older man clears his throat, “Good job, demons,” he looks at _your_ demons, “Make sure not to strain yourself too much, Atsumu. I know you want to be back on the court, but I will not hesitate to kick you out if you break a bone.”

“Breaking a bone is nothing, coach,” Atsu interjects loudly with a cocky grin on his face, “I still could play better than all of the other scrubs you would want to exchange me even with broken hands.” 

You tap your foot on the floor, both exasperated and fond. You hate how passionate he is, really. It’s good that both you and Osamu have a little bit of common sense left and neither of you will let him play with broken hands. Does he think he can dodge both you and his twin at the same time? That’s really, really foolish. Both of you will not hesitate to tie his stupid ass if you have to. 

“Hell yeah, man!” one of the boys from the team shouts, a huge grin on his face. It’s truly n fortunate for him that there is nothing you can hurl on his stupid face, “The love for volleyball conquers all!”

You roll your eyes, _Tell that to the good, old Kalashnikov rifle._

“You are both idiots,” Osamu comments dryly, passing over the crowd to sit down next to you. He offers you his hand and you take it, without hesitation as he continues, “Tsumu, if you break a bone, I’m telling mama on ya.”

“You wouldn’t dare, Samu,” the older twin hastily puts his hands defensively in the air, “If you do, I will tell her that your last allowance was all spent on sushi!” 

“Go ahead, try me, bitch,” he challenges his twin as he reaches over to hold your hand. You squeeze his hand, happy to have his comforting presence at your side, “It was good sushi, worth it every time.”

A smile tugs on your lips as you remember the taste of salmon nigiri. It really was. You would kill somebody for some right now. Nobody offers you sushi for murder, though, so the losers of this team are safe for now. You can’t promise anything about the future, because- well, you are really cheap. 

“Coach,” Kita’s voice wakes you from your daydream. You lift your eyes and see him stepping ahead towards your teacher, “I need to go home early today.” 

“Ah, yeah,” Kurosu clears his throat awkwardly before the storms of voices rise over the gym, nearly making you jump up in the fright. 

“Wait, Kita-san, you have something to do?!”

“Wow, Robot-senpai, you have a life?”

“Don’t be rude, Rintarou!” 

“Don’t leave us alone!” 

“We’re doomed!” 

Kita continues to look impassively at all of the club members. The most desperate ones are first-years but you can’t help the giggle leaving your mouth as Aran hits Suna’s arm with the back of his hand. The noirette’s face doesn’t change in the slightest, which only adds to your amusement. 

“Make sure to clean everything,” Shinsuke says coldly, completely ignoring everything that was said, “I don’t want you to leave [Name] alone with all of the chores.” 

“Did he just call-” 

“Thanks, Shinsuke!” you shout out to him, ignoring everything, “Have a safe road home! Don’t let any serial killer get ya.”

“Thank you, [Name]."

“Bye-bye,” you raise your free hand and wave him goodbye with your fingers alone. He gazes at you for the second, his cheeks dusted red, before he nearly shyly returns the gesture and practically runs out of the gym. 

Okay, now you feel like some sort of spectacle. Everybody’s eyes are suddenly trained at you and without thinking much, you tug on Osamu’s hand. The silverette looks to your scared face and his expression morphs into an intimidating glower. He tears his eyes away from you and directs them towards the team, scaring all of them easily. 

You squeeze his palm in silent gratitude. You really don’t need judgment from people a lot more socially-aware than you right now. Chtulhu, you are trying, you really, really do, but the truth is, you have no idea what are you doing. Is that how you start a friendship? You don’t know. You wonder if Kita knows, with his robot-like behavior. To be fair, does anybody know what the fuck they do?

Maybe Wiki-How will help you at least. 

A little huff leaves your mouth as your coach continues once more, “So, yeah, I don’t want all of you leaving chores to Date, just like Kita said, so make sure you clean after yourselves,” he sighs loudly, before continuing, “Some pointers. Suna, you really should stop lazing about. Ojiro, no complaints from me. Ginjima, work on your timing, you are a little bit off with your spikes. Akagi, you are still freaking me out with your love for cats. The Miyas. I hate you both, please stop being yourself.” 

“Get better, losers,” you whisper, tittering. Osamu smiles at that, moving his thumb across your palm in a soft caress. Atsumu, who somehow heard you too, sticks his tongue out and pulls his eyelid down, causing you to giggle a little bit louder. 

_Really handsome now, AtsuAtsu._

“I agree with Date-san, it seems. What a strange feeling, having to agree with non-Kita,” Kurosu nods little to himself. You blush, not knowing how to react to something like that. Oops, you guess? “Dismissed, everyone. I want to go back to Momo-chan, but if you have any questions-” 

He looks like he wants to run, but before he can, some first-years ambush him with teary eyes. You roll your eyes as you watch them. Dramatic bitches. Being a player on the team is so much easier than being a manager from what you glimpsed. Your work sucks just so, so much. 

Being a manager is not all only watching Miya twins play and throwing balls at them. Shucks. Nobody told you that before because they all know you would run away, screaming and cursing. Doing laundry, refilling bottles, handing people towels, and making your best not to gag from the smell of their sweat. All of it, and _more_. You became little Miss Do-It-All, from cleaning to organizing papers. 

You are very lucky that the first-years help you, though you are pretty sure they don’t do that out of their own volition. You still don’t know who you are supposed to thank for their cooperation - Osamu, Atsumu or if that was the Ice Prince, Kita Shinsuke himself.

They mostly help you carry things and take care of putting the net up or down, which is a blessing in disguise. Seriously, you would probably keel over if you tried to do it on your own. Their involvement makes you think, though. Do all first-years in clubs do shit like that? If so, it makes you want to see how Miya menaces were doing in their first year. You can’t imagine them doing the same things as, let’s say, Rizakai. They would probably burn down the gym before they behaved like proper ball boys.

“Since when you and Kita are on a first-name basis, sunshine?” Atsumu asks and you blink, questioning how the hell did he sneak up on you, “Are you trying to replace us?” 

You snort at that and offer him your free hand. He looks hesitant for a second and you flutter your eyelids in surprise, not expecting this out of Atsumu. Since when does he have some sort of shame? 

“Give me your hand, you dummy dumb, don’t leave me high up and dry,” you pursue your lips into the thin line and he chuckles, finally taking it and sitting beside you. You give both him and Osamu a little tug, “Nobody is as stupid as you, don’t worry about replaced, Atsu-chan.”

“Does it mean you are going to replace Samu?”

The two of you answer at the same time.

“No way!”

“Go to hell, Tsumu.” 

Your friend laughs at that, bringing his free hand to pinch your nose. You grumble a little, but let him do that. You hate how weak you are for them, hate how much you love those idiots. They should be the ones to do all of this work, not you! They got you into this stupid, stupid gig. 

“You look good, by the way,” Atsumu smiles cheekily. You blink, looking down on your plain sports clothes and he rolls his eyes, “In that jersey. It fits you, sunshine.”

“She always looks good, you asshole,” Osamu snaps back harshly before softening his expression and talking to you, “You look as beautiful as ever, [Name].” 

“You are such a wimp, Samu!” 

You giggle at that, “Thanks, idiots.” 

You hate how not everything about being a manager for Inarizaki’s volleyball team is bad. You have your friends with you, all the time, so you are safe and sound. You are ever-so-slowly making more maybe-friends, and well, shit like that will look good when you will try getting into college. 

If you will want to get into the university, that’s it. You still don’t know and, well, you have a lot of time to think about that, so you are not going to do that now. You don’t regret becoming a manager, for now at least. 

Still, you wish there was less work. Much less disgusting work. 

Well, thinking about that, you lift your head, “Can we go already?” 

“Hm? Sleepy, sunshine?” Atsumu tugs your hand a little, before dropping it to rub his chin, not looking at you but something else, “I wanted to stay and practice. Do you mind napping in the corner?” 

You grimace. That’s not exactly what you meant, though you would lie if you said that nap doesn’t sound heavenly. You have places to be, things to buy, documentaries to see, and books to read. Time waits for now, and neither does your favorite cashier back at your neighborly konbini. 

There is also one more reason, but you know saying it aloud will not change anything. Or rather, it will and that makes you just a little tad scared. Like, yeah, you can make them go home by simply saying you don’t feel so fine, but that would be a lie. You are a lot of things, but a liar is not one of those things. 

If you are dead tired, then they have to be too, no matter how much more perk points they invested in their endurance. You don’t like the idea of them overworking, the bodies are temples of athletes and all of that jazz. They have to take care of themselves: eat properly, sleep all night, not overwork their muscles and not spend all the time worrying about you.

“I need to go to the shop,” you shrug your shoulders, keeping your thoughts to yourself, “Needs some wipes, sanitizer, and gloves. Maybe a mask too.” 

You grimace, remembering the dust and grime around volleyball equipment. It’s not even the top of this mountain. The worst offender is laundry, of course. Sweaty clothes are super awful to touch, making you shiver with disgust every time. Sweat, though, is the last of your problems as you also discerned strange stains. 

You hope it is blood. 

You really, really hope it is blood. 

_It has to be blood._

And yeah, underwear. You still don’t know what sort of pervert left those for you to wash and you don’t want to know. 

“Can you wait a bit, [Name]?” Osamu asks, stretching his back, “We will go with you after an hour or two. Don’t fucking expect me to stay longer, Tsumu.” 

Atsumu rolls his eyes, reaching over to ruffle his twin’s hair, “You wimp. Afraid you will not keep up with me?” 

“Fuck you, Tsumu, I can.” 

“Tryhards,” you comment carelessly. Your smile is a little bit strained and Osamu notices it instantly, abandoning the simmering fight to reach to your face with his free hand and place it on your cheek. 

His honey-like eyes gaze into yours with intensity, trying to read into your very soul. You fidget nervously, the thoughts crawling on the edge of your mind. You are a little bit afraid to suggest it, knowing very well how overprotective they can be after-after _that_. 

Amagasaki is not Kobe, though. You very well doubt you will meet somebody from your old school. This little city - okay, not so little, but it feels little compared to old good Kobe - is your sanctuary, as long as you keep your doors closed and don’t wander into abandoned alleys with strangers. 

So, it should be fine, right? They could trust you with going to a single shop, buying several things, and returning to your apartment unharmed without any complications. You are a big girl, you can do things like that without needing them to hold your hand. No matter how warm their palms can be. 

Yeah, you would be able to do that, without any trouble, haha. You are the future Overlord of this world, you can do that. It will not be a problem, definitely. 

“I can go home alone,” you utter softly, words rushing through your mouth before you change your mind, “It’s like, twenty minutes walk. Nobody will kidnap me in twenty minutes, probably.” 

Silence. 

A hope burns in your chest for a second as Osamu’s eyes remain trained on you. He takes a little breath, parting his lips to say something, but Atsumu is faster. 

“No.”

You feel his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them. 

“No way, sunny,” he repeats the words more forcefully as if you didn’t understand him the first time, “It’s too dangerous. What if something happens to you? What if you meet somebody? What if you meet her again? There’s no way I’m, I mean _we_ are letting you go home alone.”

A spark of anger flashes through your body. Shoving them both out of yourself, you stand up and throw your hair out of your shoulder. You glare at them for the moment, lips pursed into a scowl before you turn around, ready to leave them there and then, and just do whatever the fuck you want. 

You hear them scrambling after you, but you don’t stop, not until they both stand in your way and reach for you. You try to tear yourself from them, but guess what, it’s hard to do when you are a petite girl and they are big, scary volleyball players. 

“Darling,” Osamu tries to speak to you through your anger, his hand taking the hold of your palm. You growl at him, ready to throw this fucking hand into his stupid face, “We are just worried about you,” he sighs, his expression softening and nearly making you want to hug him, “We have every reason to be, sweetheart, please, I don’t want to see you like that ever again.” 

You deflate a bit and lower your gaze, the memories nearly making it hard to breathe, but Osamu doesn’t stop, going for the last, lethal hit.

“I promised I will never leave you alone, [Name].” 

He did. This vow will always keep him captive, will it not? You didn’t mean it like that, back then, scared and lost, without anchor and in the middle of the sea. You sigh, defeated. 

“I still have to go to the shop.”

“We will go with you,” Atsu offers instantly, grasping into your cheek and caressing it lightly, “You can take whatever snacks you want to, sunny. Matcha sticks, chips, or mochi. I’m going to pay,” he smiles at you sweetly, “Maybe we will get you some flowers too.” 

“Fuck off, Tsumu,” Sam retorts nearly automatically, way too used to his brother’s bullshit, “We’ve been through it. Only I can buy her flowers.” 

“You are both idiots,” you insult them, eyes glistening in the corners of your eyes, “Awful, awful idiots, and I hate you both.”

You feel just a little bit humiliated, a little bit sad. You could probably kick them and still, it wouldn’t help anything. It’s hard to argue with that, to argue with their protectiveness, because they only do that all from love. They want to shield you, hold you in that little bubble, never let you go. You adore that, in the way. 

And you hate yourself for that adoration, for not trying to fight back, for letting them stay when they are supposed to go. You don’t want to be the burden. You really don’t, but that’s what you are to them, even though they will never think about you that way. 

As if to reiterate this point, you free yourself of Osa’s hand and gesture at them to lean down. Both of them do without argument, holy shit, at least. You shake your head a little before reaching towards Atsumu’s face and kissing him on the nose. Then, without much ado, you do the same to Osa. 

Spinning around, you don’t look back, leaving them identically stunned. How ironic. Both of them wanted to be so different that they dyed their hair in the opposite colors, and yet, even like that, they are still twins. 

“When the two of you will finally become decent human beings?” you ask, clasping your hands behind your back as you drop down on your seat. Seriously, how this bench can still be so fucking uncomfortable? 

_When you will finally let me go?_

“[Name]-chan, you are such a vixen.” 

You look back at them at the blond’s words. Atsumu, acting way too bashful, rubs his nose, hand grazing at the same spot you touched him. Osamu seems to feel a little bit shy as well, pink dusting over his ears, though you have no idea why exactly. It’s not the first time you kissed them. Not the last as well. Well, anyway-

 _Vixen, really?_ Somebody takes your school’s name way too seriously. You can’t help but laugh harder at the ridiculousness of that nickname. What does it make him and Osamu, foxes? The picture of the twins with little fox ears and tails is way too much and a laugh escapes your mouth. 

“Don’t call her that, you fuck.” 

You laugh harder at Osamu’s snapping response.

* * *

“So, why do you need to go shopping?”

Your eyes are still on the screen of your phone, Atsumu’s onigiri in your hand as you answer nonchalantly, “What do you think I want, Osa-chan?” 

“Cosmetics and food,” he replies without hesitation, and you grin, taking the last bite of your meal. Or Atsu’s meal. Well, he should really take better care of his food if he didn’t want it to be eaten, “Make Tsumu pay for all of it.”

“Oh, I will.” 

You are definitely going to. He did offer, after all, and you are many things, but a fool is not one of those. Free stuff means more money for games, anime merch, shoes, and more worthless possessions you probably don’t need. You want them anyway. 

Oh, _shoes_. 

You saw cute ones in the ad because Google spies on you all the time and knows all of your preferences. They were lavender, with little ribbons, and would look amazing with that striped top you got on the sale last week- 

Date, keep your head in the game, don't think about shoes. This is the temptation, fight it, argh! Focus on important things that you need for survival, things you put on your List. Your pretty, pretty List of things you need to buy to not murder the somewhat innocent members of the volleyball team. Like you said before, you need sanitizers, wipes, gloves, and masks. It’s really, really simple things, but they will definitely make your life much easier. 

Those damn boxers, fuck. You still have no idea who left them, but you are gonna find out if that's the last thing you do in your life. You will get detectives on the case – and if they fail, because they are such failures, you will go ask politely Shinsuke if he could, pretty please, a cherry on the top, scold the hell out of his team. 

Google said it’s normal for people in clubs to leave their underwear for managers to wash. Well, fuck you Google, fuck you social norms, fuck you standards. You are not going to do that, not when people don’t pay you for that. Seriously, who would want to teach another person’s boxers? It is so unhygienic you feel like you are about to gag. 

“Nice kill, Atsumu-senpai!” 

You flutter your eyes and lift your head from Osamu’s shoulder, looking back to the court. You have no idea what happened, but the boy you don’t remember smiles widely on your friend, looking absolutely thrilled. How long has he been in this club? 

“Why didn’t you receive it, Shouta-kun? Aren’t you supposed to play as libero?” a vicious smile makes its way on Tsu’s face and you hear 

He is probably from the first year, but you are pretty sure he is not in your class. Well, he will understand one day that Atsu really doesn’t like when people cheer when he is serving. He said to you that it made it hard to concentrate, and to be honest, you don’t understand exactly why. Still, you are a good friend and you don’t know many people you have cursed out loud for being loud during his serves. 

Wasn’t the best decision, probably, but you would do it every time to help Atsumu. 

The boy pales, before readying himself to bump the ball. You observe him for a second, before looking back at Atsu. One of your hands is still playing Candy Crush on your phone, but you make sure to watch, just a little. Whatever he planned to do, you didn’t expect the ball to go like that. 

It happens very fast, making your heartbeat accelerate. One moment, the ball is in the blond’s hand. The second Atsumu hits the ball in the air and slams it, letting it float, instead of sending it towards the floor with overwhelming power. The floating ball hits the least likely corner, making you gape with an open mouth. Just for a moment. 

Osamu chuckles and you hastily close it, afraid that a fly will fly in. Ow, disgusting. You rub your mouth, before turning towards the silverette, ignoring Atsu mocking the same young boy. 

“That was so fluffy, SamSam,” you whisper, way too excited that you should be over a sport, “Like, how does one even do that? It-it-it-just flew! Is that some sort of secret technique the government is developing for the war? Oh, Lord of Darkness, that makes actual sense.” 

Osamu ruffles your hair, “It doesn’t, [Name]. Don’t let Tsumu hear you, his ego is already big enough.” 

Yeah, you totally don’t want that. You nod, but you can’t help but still be impressed by what is clearly the weapon of mass destruction. If bullets could do shit like that, Jesus, that would be deadlier than a rocket launcher. Okay, maybe not, but still pretty awesome. 

You hum a little, the question falling from your mouth nearly on its own, “Can you do those too, Osa-chan?” 

Osamu stops nibbling on his rice, raising his eyes to meet yours in question. You shrug, not really sure why you asked. It’s just strange, you suppose, to see Atsumu do something Osa can’t when the younger twin used to be so much better than him in the beginning. 

Under his gaze, though, you feel yourself faltering, not sure if that point is something that wouldn’t make your friend angry, “I mean, you don’t have to, just, you know, Osa-chan, it’s not like that, oh god, did I say something stupid again?” 

Osamu, you know, would never truly hate you for stupid shit that leaves your mouth, but you still can’t help the worry appearing in your brain. 

“Never, angel,” Sam whispers tenderly, his voice devoid of jealousy or anger as his hand one more time finds its way to your hair, “Do you want me to try?” 

“They just seem neat, I guess,” you whisper to him, feeling a little bit stupid about such a simple excuse, “I think you can do them too, and then AtsuAtsu has nothing to hold against you. That would be neat too, doncha think?”

“It would,” he agrees easily, his eyes shooting to his twin, “Want me to steal Tsumu’s thunder?”

You click your lips, not really sure how to answer. You follow his gaze and notice that the gym is rather empty now. It’s not empty, of course, there are members you don’t really know training with the boy, Gintama or something, that attends the same class as Atsu. The whole gym practically belongs to you now and Tsu uses that mercilessly, serving and serving without a break. The idiot never seems to stop serving, though it’s the first time you saw him going after a floaty serve. 

“You know that I’m always up for that, Sam-chan. Can you destroy him for me, please?” 

“I would do anything for you,” he retorts simply and you beam up at those sweet words. He continues, taking a sip out of his bottle, “They are jump floaters, not really easy to execute properly,” sighs Osamu as he ruffles your hair, “It’s always a bit of risk to go with them if you are not a volleyball idiot like Tsumu.”

You want to nod in understanding, but before you can a ball slams at the wall near Osamu, giving you a mild heart attack. You whip your head, glaring daggers, and death at your would-be-murdered, Atsumu Miya himself. 

“You know I would never hurt you, [Name]-chan, don’t pout,” Atsumu cocks his chin and places his hand on his waist, addressing his twin, “You are just afraid you are going to be worse than me at them, aren’t you, Samu-kun?” 

“Fucker,” Osamu yawns pointedly, though you are sure that the remark makes his blood boil. Atsu smiles, an awful cocky grin appearing on his face at his twin’s words. Osa scoffs, “Say that to my face if you are so confident.”

“I will,” Atsumu looks straight into his twin's eyes, “You are just a coward, Samu.” 

The words, while being pretty normal coming from Atsu, sound strangely intoned. You blink, ready to ask about that, but Osamu stands up, grimacing before you can, “You are fuckin’ on, Tsumu.” 

You watch him launching into the air, just towards Atsumu, trying to kick him. You roll your eyes at the stupidity you are witnessing, as the blond fights back, screaming. You start wondering if there is some sort of insurance if you lose your hearing because of demonic screeching. 

Maybe, at the very least, you can sue them for damage. They are rich, they can take that.

You sigh loudly and shift a little, changing your position into something more comfortable as they finally move to the court, cursing and insulting each other as they take positions at the end of the line. 

You know jack-shit about volleyball, but you don’t have to be an expert to know that Osa’s first serve is not the same fluffy kind. Neither is the second or the third. Absentmindedly, you start to play with your phone, taking some photos of your friends. You even film them when they go for serves. There is something really cool about serves, something that makes your heart beat faster and let adrenaline into your veins. You don’t really understand why, but well, they are super neat. 

You get some excellent shots of them – oh, look at this, Atsumu picking his nose, and what’s this? Osamu tripping over? How about this one, Osamu talking in the middle of Atsumu’s serve and older twin losing his nerve? You got their fight, is it not charming? They are such losers sometimes. 

Wouldn’t it be fun if you could upload those humiliating failures of twins online? Inarizaki worships them like gods. Even Sara was talking about them with admiration. It would be fun to throw them off such a pedestal and let people see their true selves, who were even more loveable than those fakes. 

You giggle to yourself maliciously, still holding your phone in the air, plotting, and planning while you happen to glance at Osamu. He tosses the ball with one hand, but something seems different when he _jumps_ into the air. You don’t know how to exactly explain that, but for the moment the world seems to cease to exist and you can only see the silverette. You notice his lips, curled into a sharp smile and honey-like eyes focused and cutting. 

Your breath hitches in admiration. 

The ball seems to be flying before it lands on the other side of the court. 

You scream, standing up, the phone still in your hand as you dash towards Osamu, throwing your arms around his waist. 

“You did it!” 

Before Osamu can answer, you feel arms going both around you and the younger twin. Atsumu smiles like a child as he looks at the two of you. You two start to speak at the same, words mixed in your excitement

“That was so cool, Samu, what the heck!” 

“Fluffy serve, fluffy serve, Sam-chan-” 

“That was not as good as mine-”

“-and it was in, I saw it myself!” 

“She’s right. Samu, you aren’t a scrub after all!” 

“That was so cool! The coolest!” 

“Not as cool as mine, remember, sunshine. Still, he’s my little brother, of course, he could do that!” 

You are pretty sure Osamu would love to pretend nothing happened, that this achievement doesn't mean anything to him, but he takes one look at the star-stricken expressions on both of your faces, so proud and happy, and you know that he can’t do it. 

He can’t do it, so he smiles at you like a little kid, trying to play it off as he blushes, “You’re older only by five minutes.”

* * *

Your apartment’s door clicks as you cautiously place your pair of shoes on the first empty place you find. 

“ _Now dance, fucker, dance,_ ” you sing to the music coming from your earphones, “ _Man, he never had a chance_ ~ _And no one even knew, it was really only you ~_ ”

You twirl around, dragging your bag through the floor as you move towards your room. Flicking the light on, you take a long look at it before you leave your bag on the floor and take a little stroll around your apartment, just making sure that nobody got in when you were gone. It’s not paranoia if they are out to kill you, after all. You still hum a little, the words of the song leaving your mouth with ease. You think of yourself as somebody very knowledgeable about crime. Maybe a little bit too knowledgeable, because it gave you a healthy dose of fear about the littlest things. 

Your apartment looks the same as it in the morning, thanks Chtulhu, so you return to your stuffy living room and take your earbuds from your ears before so you move along, bounce in your step while you go towards the windows, wanting to open them. The fresh air hits your nose instantly and you can’t help a small smile appearing on your face as take a step back. 

“So much better,” you complain aloud, stretching your arms. You yawn, way too tired to even think about looking at your homework. Well, fuck it, you will do this shit before lessons or something. 

The desire to just let your clothing hit the floor is overwhelming, but you ignore it, plopping on your couch/bed. You start slowly pulling your uniform off your tired, sweaty body and folding it carefully next to you. You never were more grateful for several uniforms. This one is going into the laundry, even if the word alone makes you shiver. 

Your tiredness is, of course, the fault of the twins, who don’t know when enough is enough. After Osamu’s successful floaty-fluffy, both of them were way too pumped to return home, so the three of you ended up staying an hour more. Then, the hour became two hours. Three. Four. Four fucking hours. Sometimes, you want to travel back time to just slap your younger self for befriending those idiots. You ended up being the last people in the gym and had to close it. The worst of all? You also had to clean it. The fact your stomach was grumbling didn’t help you in the slightest. 

At least, you left the school, bought snacks and the items from your List, before partying your ways just before the doors of your apartment complex. Osamu offered for you to stay the night at their house, but you refused, having plans with your TV. 

You sigh, standing up and moving towards the bathroom. You leave your phone for just a moment. Quick shower with a little bit of pampering, that was your plan and that you did. Your face routine took a tad of time, but it was not long before you exited it, fresh in your cuddly pajamas. It was time nicely spent and it ended way too soon. You don’t expect a soft ringing from your phone. You plop down on your bed and have to take a double glance at the strange notification. What the fuck.

 _You were added to_ **NATIONALS OR DEATH**.

What a strange, dramatic name. You grimace as you unlock your phone with your thumb. 

**NATIONALS OR DEATH**

**_Date [Name]_ **

_whomst the fuck summoned the ancient one_

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_I want out of this group_

_I can’t function with three of them_

Ginjima Hitoshi. That sounds familiar. Maybe? You are not really sure. Your grimace deepens as you reach towards your pad. The screen comes back to life, and you slowly launch Netflix on your PS4, ready to start watching the new documentary starring Caesar. You know you are going probably _cry_ again if the film talks about Ides of March, but you love the old tyrant too much not to watch it.

That strange group, though, you should just probably ignore it because you are pretty sure that’s some stupid scam. Sighing, you reach over to your phone to block it, but before you can you see one name. Out of your mouth comes a long, tired sigh that could probably be heard on the other side of the world.

Serious, what did you expect? Of course. Of fucking course. Who else? 

**NATIONALS OR DEATH**

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_that’s valid ngl_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_no escapes allowed, now, shut up your traps_

_hello, sunshine, my dearest, are you awake right now?_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_how the fuck would she answer in her sleep_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_[name] is very talented rin you bitch_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_SIMP_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_yo headachez wtf you want from me_

_itz Caesar time FFS we had a deal_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_spoilers he gets stabbed_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_i cant believe this is the only thing you remember about him_

_oi who I am kidding? i totally can. hows your homework, tsumu-kun?_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_Sorry to bother you, Date-san. We heard that you were filming twins’ serves. Can you send them to us?_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_why tf would you want theirz servs when you can hv atsu picking his nose_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_SEND THEM_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_dont you dare_

_i know where you live_

_and watch your own homework, samu-kun!_

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_so you confess you did it?_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_gross_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_^_

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_^_

**_Akagi Michinari_ **

_^_

**Kita Shinsuke**

_Can you send Osamu’s jump float serve?_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_SHINSUKE OFC_ _: DDDDD_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_Shinsuke????_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_STFU rin-kun nobody told you to care_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_yeah, rin-kun, only we are allowed to mess with [name]_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_he’s right, we have permit it’s called the childhood friend’s privilege_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_Shinsuke is my name, Rintarou._

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_Don’t worry about it, Shinsuke, they are just being stupid LIKE ALWAYS._

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_asdfghjkl Kita-san pls_

_:)))) cant believe even you against me, mom_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_i can aran is the coolest_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_demon_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_absolutely the coolest get rekt rin-kun_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_demon x2_

You roll your eyes at that and delve into your gallery, seeking Osamu’s serve. You find it after a second and send it to the group of volleyball’s nerds. 

You watch the group for a second, your finger coming to rest on your lips as you wonder. _Nationals or death_ is a pretty straight-forward name, you guess, but what you are interested in are members of it, so one click away and you see that all of the members of the main line-up are there. Maybe this will help you remember their names. 

_Ginjima Hitoshi_ , you repeat in your mind, _What a strange name_. Then, you wrinkle your nose not having an idea who _Omimi Ren_ is. The rest of the members are people you at least recognize. Allan, or rather Aran Ojiro, Akagi Michinari, and Zombie, Suna Rintarou. Okay, maybe you can do that. You look back at the conversation, and wow, your head really starts to hurt when you see it. They are volleyball idiots, not nerds it seems.

**NATIONALS OR DEATH**

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_isn’t he good?!? not as good as me ofc but he’s good enough to be Miya_

**_Mita Osamu_ **

_i hate you more than i hate being hungry, i hope you know that_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_Nice kill, Osamu!_

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_Just think about this: The enemy thinks they dealt with atsumu and then comes osamu with the next floater. I would be so pissed._

**_Akagi Michinari_ **

_I would have trouble getting this one!!!_

**_Omimi Ren_ **

_Can you do this perfectly each time?_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_Hitoshi I know right?!?! we have to do it samu!!!!_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_not yet_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_Will you be able to master it?_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_probably_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_heard you talking SHIT_

_Im giving you a week to be better than tsu you can do it, osa-chan  
_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_no way sunny im always better_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_Do you have more films like this one, Date-san?_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_hella yes_

_do you guys have twitter or sth so we can upload it online_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_No. There was no one to manage something like this. Would you like to, [Name]?_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_[Name]???????_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_get the name of my precious flower away from your mouth rin-kun_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_Pathetic_

_Such a simp atsumu_

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_^_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_^_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_^_

**_Akagi Michinari_ **

_^_

**_Omimi Ren_ **

_^_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_That’s her name, though._

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_It’s nothing important, Shinsuke. Don’t worry about it._

Managing the team's Twitter?

Your nose crinkles. You know that Inarizaki is really fond of their volleyball and people probably would like that. Scratch that. They would go absolutely bananas at that. They already are crazy about volleyball for some reason. You heard from Kizuchi that the Cheering Committee was already working hard to well, cheer people up. Not to even start talking about the brass band that was already practicing for the coming Interhigh. 

It’s really insane, how far people go for a high-school team. At this point, what Inarizaki don't have? They possess the stadium, the Cheering Committee, committed brass band, so what do they lack? Ah, yes. They are deficient in common sense. Stupid rich people.

You could probably do it. It’s not like it would be very harder than stupid laundry. Just upload some photos and films, maybe even take a selfie in the gym. Atsu told you that Kurosu had a strict rule that nobody, but team members were allowed in when practice took place, so hardcore fans of twins would probably love it.

It could even be fun, but you are unsure if you would be good about it. Your lips twitch. Why the hell not? Shinsuke said it’s alright, so you can try. You take a deep breath and slowly write back. 

**NATIONALS OR DEATH**

**_Date [Name]_ **

_Can I curse on social media ****_**_?_ **

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_Yes_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_No._

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_:(_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_:(_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_:(_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_...okay._

**_Date [Name]_ **

_:)_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_:)_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_:)_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_Are you alright, Shinsuke?!_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_We’re in the worst timeline quick somebody kill me_

_or wait, i will do it myself_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_RIN NO_

_IM CALLING YOUR MOM_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_DONT IM JOKING_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_I don’t understand what you are saying, Rintarou, I feel fine. We will talk about this with coaches, [Name], hold on right now. The rest of you, go to sleep. I know there’s no morning practice, but afternoon one will still take place. Rest well, make sure to eat healthily. Goodnight._

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_Goodnight, everyone!_

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_Definitely going to sleep. No volleyball for me._

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_Hitoshi._

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_yes sir_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_HEY SAMU GUESS WHO IS ALREADY AT TOP BUNK_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_YOU BITCH_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_Ahahahaiasdfghjkl;xcvbnm,wertyuiop[asdfg_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_F_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_F_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_Go to sleep, [Name], Rintarou._

You crack a smile. It’s easier to talk through messages and what a pity that you cannot talk like that all the time. You feel bolder on the internet, your stutter is not transferred to the messages and well, it’s fun. You are just talking with strangers on the internet, but somehow, you feel warm inside. 

It feels like you are friends with those people, you realize, which is bittersweet. You are not friends with them. Not yet. Maybe never.

Even so, you would love it if you could be.

Yeah, though, you are not going to sleep. It’s _Caesar Time_ , damn it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: is a nervous wreck
> 
> Kita: already signing adoption papers
> 
> Suna: Oh my god.
> 
> The unreliable narrator is one of those really fun things to write. Atsumu giving Reader his shirt to wear is a little bit more than “hey, we forgot to take [Name]’s top, so let’s give her ours”. He is a manipulative little bastard and for once, Osamu didn’t fight him too much about it (they played rock, paper, scissors over whose shirt it is gonna be, and nearly killed each other when Osamu lost lmao).
> 
> Thank you for the kudos! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!
> 
> The chapter was edited on 17.01.21.


	8. In which you start to make friends (and something finally burns).

You should have known.

The morning was quiet, _too_ quiet, suspiciously quiet. Mornings with the Miya twins are never truly quiet. They can be drowsy or lazy, but mornings with the Miya twins are never quiet. The only times your friends are so calm are when they are connoting some sort of plan leading to mass destruction.

“Not this time, you witch.” 

“Find yourself your own childhood friend, you stupid pig.” 

Truly, you were a fool. You were not expecting such motherfuckery, too busy eating blueberry cupcakes Osamu baked for you. You need to repeat: Osamu baked cupcakes for you. _Cupcakes_! How were you supposed to even attempt to imagine that was all part of their meticulously planned plot? They were so delicious, so yummy, so good. 

Now, you will never be able to see cupcakes in the same way.

“Hello, Atsumu-senpai, Osamu-senpai,” Sara’s smile is immaculate as he gazes at both of your childhood friends. She politely ignores their insults, though you discern that something strange glitters in her eyes as she continues, placing her palms on the desk, “How can I help you?” 

“Do you hear her, Samu?” Atsumu snarks, his own smile saccharine sweet. You look at him dead in the eyes, ready to commit the murder. He whistles lowly, cocking his head towards his twin.

You shift your death glare, daring Osamu to say anything. To your surprise, Osamu doesn’t even try to hide the thin line of annoyance crackling between his eyebrows as his eyes land on Kizuchi. 

You like to think you understand both Atsu and Osa very well, but the truth is that out of the two of them, you always knew the silverette better. The younger twin keeps his face pretty much neutral most of the time, only changing his mien to show his utter exasperation towards Atsu. This is the main reason why people think he is a much calmer twin out of the two. You can only comment on such a statement in one way: _you fucking fool, he got you good._

Osamu is the aggressive one out of the two of them. He just learned how to control his temper and expression better from anyone who is not you or Atsumu. So, you pretty much easily can see that under that calm exterior, your friend is sulking. 

“I don’t hear anything, Tsumu,” he replies evenly, “Just a very annoying fly.” 

Oh my god, how could you forget he is five-years-old as well? 

“What is wrong with both of you?” you scrunch your nose at them with distaste, “Oh, wait, don’t answer. Everything is wrong with you.” 

You would love to say you were expecting it. You should be expecting it, seriously, you should be suspicious from the very start. And yet, you were blind and stupid. Millions will pay for your mistake. It is all those damn cupcakes’ fault! 

Atsumu points with a finger at your seatmate, “Heard that, hairy frog. Get lost.” 

“I’m so jealous of the President, I want Atsumu-senpai to tell me to get lost too,” a whisper echoes around the room. A sweat drops from your forehead. _What the actual fuck._

You fidget a bit as you catch thousands of stares from your classmates on your back. Awkwardly, you try to make yourself as small as you can. You don’t want to have anything to do with that _particular_ drama. Or any drama, to be honest. Shit, shit, shit, you know it would end up like that. You should have never agreed to attend Inarizaki! 

To give credit where credit is due, the blonde girl doesn’t look intimidated by the twins’ _bad cop-bad cop_ spectacle. Her eyebrow is raised, that’s true but other than that her lips glossed by cherry lipstick are tugged into a perfectly courteous smile. 

You want to cry. Poor Kizuchi didn’t even do anything to deserve this. She was just being friendly to the class loser and because of that, the children of Satan himself decided to harass her. 

“I apologize if you wished to join us,” she retorts. With surprise, you spy the corners of her ears becoming pink as Osamu growls at her. Well, if somebody growled at you out of nowhere you would blush too and with much less grace, you guess, “Both I and Date-san already made plans together and we wouldn’t want to be disturbed.” 

You are pretty sure your heart is crying, but you do your best to stifle a sniff. 

You don’t think anyone, ever, preferred your company over that of the twins. _Yua -_ You don’t want to think about Yua, not truly, but Kizuchi couldn’t be more different than her, and that gives you hope. Small hope, that’s true, but it’s still hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can keep a female friend this time around. 

“Ignore them, Kizuchi-san,” you mutter softly, “They are pests. Will go bored and disappear. S-so, how was your practice yesterday?”

In the morning, everything was fine. You were able to eat breakfast with twins at your apartment, got dressed in time, and arrived at school without any problems (where are those supposedly dangerous roads Miya twins are so afraid of?). You were walking to your classroom again – and seriously, why was everyone still gaping at you three? – and took a seat next to Sara just like the last day.

You started to do your homework, lazily chatting with Kizuchi, who even proposed to share her work with you. You agreed without any second thoughts, and before the teacher arrived you were done.

Lessons, well.

Lessons were as strange as ever.

Ms. Takeuchi, the history teacher, walked to the room in Hijikata Toshirou’s cosplay, holding _a real-ass katana,_ and proceeded to talk about the way seppuku was performed for the whole hour. Your literature teacher, Mr. Edogawa, slammed William Shakespeare’s _Macbeth_ and started a lecture about how Tolkien was so salty about the Great Birnam Wood not coming to life that he created the Ents. Your math lesson? The teacher straight–up said he was too hungover to do any actual teaching and ordered your class to solve problems from the book on your own.

You didn’t expect that to be a standard of famous Inarizaki High School, but what do you know? Maybe this is how all those rich-ass schools taught their pupils! You don’t know, because as much as your parents and your brother liked to claim your family was from high-society, you knew that compared to those old families that held power for centuries - like fucking _Miyas_ \- they were _nouveau riche_ entertainers. That, to be honest, was very much amusing. You loved seeing them being put into their places every time they tried to complain about you to Miss Shouko. 

After those _incidents_ , finally came the long break, and just like yesterday, Kizuchi asked you to eat with her. You agreed shyly and sent Osamu’s message saying they should eat on their own again. They decided to haunt you anyway, bringing their unpleasant company even when you didn’t want them.

Little shits. 

You twist your lips in dismay, your eyes focused on your female companion, which is why you are surprised when Tsu decides to be an idiot. He has to be one always, of course, you shouldn’t be as baffled. Not caring about common sense, tradition, or even curtesy, he closes the distance between the two of you and, oh fuck, not again -

Up, on his shoulder, you go. A small huff of air leaves your mouth and you grab Atsu’s shirt with your fingers, nervously fidgeting with the material as his arm comes around your waist, holding you securely so you won’t fall or escape. 

A dread fills your stomach. You are still in the public space, your classmates are all around you and you are scared of what they must be thinking right now. You don’t want this sort of attention, damn it. 

“Atsumu-senpai is as handsome as ever,” you hear an excited, rushed whisper. For a whisper, it is so loud you are pretty sure everyone hears it. Even Atsumu whose grin you can imagine easily. 

“Look at how forward he is,” somebody nods, a million other voices answering with shrieks and squeals, one more stupid than another. The dread disappears, leaving only a big headache. 

“Told you. He is totally yandere.”

Nevermind, you don’t want to care about what those people think anymore. They don’t deserve your attention, fucking shitheads. 

“Atsu, you fucking bitch, I don’t want to go with you!” you growl at your friend, hands hitting his back as he holds you against your will with his arm around your waist, “I want to hang with people cooler – “

“There’s nobody cooler than me, my dear vixen,” he says back and you nearly hear the cocky smile he has to have on his stupid face, “You shouldn’t be speaking about such heresy! Do you want for me to find an exorcist?” 

Out of everything he said, one thing is the most baffling out of them all. You blink, stopping your onslaught of attacks as you ask, “Since when do you know what heresy means, AtsuAtsu?”

An arrogant laugh escapes his mouth. Fucker. It was a serious question! You have no idea how this idiot was able to get a class higher than Osamu, seriously. He had to cheat, the filthy cheater. You hate him. You hate him so much you are going to send this photo of him picking his nose to everybody in the school. 

Let him be called cool after that!

You hiss at the degenerate before you catch the face of Sara. She is biting down on her lip, her gaze jumping from you to somebody else, but the moment she sees your eyes on her, she smiles, hiding her distress, “Date-san, let’s have lunch together another time!” 

As you disappear through the door, you shout out, loudly, even as the volume of your voice is so, so embarrassing, “Yes, please! I will look forward to that, Kizuchi-san!” 

Your face reddens at the thought. Having a friend in your classroom is really, really nice. The thought that Kizuchi doesn’t mind the twins doing whatever they want and doesn’t blame you for their actions makes your heart leap out with joy. You don’t have a lot of time to think about that, not when you are being abducted out of your classroom. 

The fuckers left behind your bento, too!

Yet again, you find yourself at the mercy of your kidnappers. Taken away from happiness and joy, trapped forever in a black cell of depression. You just wanted to eat with her, spend time with her, be friends with her. Why are they not letting you? You moan loudly, slugging your head down in defeat.

“Hey, my food at least, assholes-” 

“Already ahead of you, [Name],” Osamu yawns, stepping out of your classroom just behind Atsumu, with your pink bag thrown around his shoulder. At your incredulous gaze, he shrugs, a keen smile quivering his lips, “Hope you will like it.” 

That sentiment is sweet, but also super stupid. You like everything Osa cooks. You puff your cheeks nonetheless, still not happy with your position on Tsu’s arm. Your misery is promptly ignored by twins, because, duh, this is what they do. 

They don’t stop to let you contemplate the awfulness of their actions or the emptiness of your existence. Like always, they just simply decide to go to some stupid, undisclosed location, taking you along for the ride. Not even one person dares to stand in their way as they stride confidently through corridors, students parting up before them as the Red Sea before Moses. 

Sarcastically, you wonder if local fish gazed at Moses like at a superstar too. 

“Just so you know, Tsumu,” SamSam says lazily with a complete deadpan as the two of them walk and you dangle in the air, “You are the lamest person I know. There is nothing cool about you and saying you are awesome will not change that.”

You would probably nod in the agreement at this statement if you only were not being kidnapped right now. Well, tough luck, Osamu. You roll your eyes, scoffing softly under your breath. 

“Shut up, you jerk!” Atsumu snarks back, mocking edge in his tone, “How about you find yourself better insult, huh? Always calling me lame and lame, it’s getting old and boring, Samu-kun.” 

Osamu blink expressionless, “If those boring insults get you riled up so much, what does it say exactly about you?” 

“That’s he is trash,” you hiss, interrupting their stupid argument, “But not the usual, normal piece of the junk. He is literally that one drinking can of coffee left three years ago on the bottom of the lake by some asshole who was too stupid to go those four damn steps to the trashcan.”

You swear someone goes _damn_ and _oooh_ on your words, but you are not thinking clearly, so it can be all your imagination. Atsumu stops for a moment in his tracks, but before you can start fighting for your life, he starts walking again, not bothered by insult at all. With a gush of vitriol, you slam your palm against Atsumu’s neck, but it does jack-shit. You officially hate your life.

“There’s the creativity you were craving, Tsumu,” Osamu whistles, following his twin with eyes sparkling, “Are you satisfied, brother?” 

“ _He will never be satisfied_ ,” you sing-song, venom laced through your words, “ _You will never be satisfied._ ”

“Karaoke after school?” the younger, better twin, proposes softly, the smirk from minutes ago changing into something much gentler as he gazes at you, “We can sing all of the _Hamilton_ and make fun of Tsumu’s lack of talent.”

Not that you mind karaoke, but, there’s one big problem at that. You stick your tongue out at him, “Would sound great if I was not being kidnapped right now, Osa-chan.”

“It’s not the first time and not the last, [Name],” he answers, mirth shining in his honey-eyed eyes, “I know that it has to be awful, being hold by Tsumu. Next time, I will be the one to hold you.” 

“That’s not the problem and you know that,” you click your tongue with dissatisfaction, “Can’t you two ask like normal people, demons? Maybe I would agree or we could eat all together, with Kizuchi-san!” 

“I don’t want to eat with this pig, though,” he retorts and you gasp, insulted on Sara’s behalf. He rolls his eyes at your reaction, but you can’t help but notice something dark on the edges of his irises, “Stop being dramatic, darling.” 

“Dramatic? You are insulting my _friend_ ,” you stress the last word, snarling your teeth at him, “She did nothing wrong, nothing at all, you know. She just befriended a class loser, you don’t have to be salty at that, you dummy.” 

“Did somebody call you this?” he asks immediately, completely ignoring everything else you said. You twist your lips into a thin line, refusing to answer and his eyes sparkle with irritation, “[Name], are people talking about you like that?” 

He is not annoyed at you, never at you, that you know. You sigh, a little bit exasperated at his overprotectiveness.

“Nobody did, right, sunshine?” Atsu cuts in, suddenly, leaning a bit so he can look at you. There is a smile on his face, the one you know very well - the fake one, which holds as much anger as his brother’s eyes, “They wouldn’t _dare_.” 

“You are both idiots,” you comment simply. Their intense gazes still stay at you and so, you puff your cheeks, “Nobody called me that, stop being stupid.” 

You sigh loudly, watching - or more hearing - Atsumu open the doors of the rooftop with his foot. The doors slam open and a cold wind rushes towards you as Atsumu tries to drop you on the ground. _Tries_. You hold onto his shirt with all your strength, but he just leans and – yeah, you fall.

“Fucker!” 

What is with you and being on the ground anyway? It happens too many times. You moan into the ground and scramble yourself off it just to see Osamu kicking Atsumu into the ground before the silverette dashes towards you, helping you up. 

“Asshole,” he agrees simply, dragging you to the nearest wall, “Not hurt, darling?” 

“Only my pride,” you mumble to yourself, “Food?” 

“Praise me,” Atsumu bellows dramatically. It would be so much more impressive if he was not flattened on the ground, “I brought your salvation! Your savior, the one and only, Miya [Name]!”

Wait, did he attach his last name to yours? That’s gross. You whimper, bringing your knees to your chest and waiting for the silverette to give you something to eat. Your best friend reaches for your bag swiftly and takes your bag with bento out, passing it to you.

You hum happily, opening it only to see onigiris shaped like pandas, onigirazus with avocado and carrots, and of course, a little bit of karaage. Chtulhu, you love Osamu. You would prefer his last name over Atsu’s any day of the week. 

“I want a refund,” you hear a familiar voice. Where did you hear this absolute emptiness and disregard for whole humanity before? Yeah, it’s your old buddy, Rin-kun, the walking Zombie, Naruto-hater. You arch your eyebrow at him, not knowing what the hell he of all people is doing there.

“Yeah, have to agree with Suna,” comes the second voice. You can’t exactly discern who it by sound, so you lift your head, onigiri with your mouth to look at this person, “What are two of you doing again?” 

You have no idea who this person may be, to be honest. He has light hair and a very punchable face, but that’s all you can say about him. 

“Destroying Tsumu’s will to live, Ginjima,” he spells the name forcefully and you nod, indicating that you understand. He smiles gently, reaching from his bag near Rin, “I still have some of those cupcakes from the morning. Do you want one?”

Bitch, you are not even going to hesitate. You nod, bringing your hands into the air towards him, “Gimme, gimme, gimme!” 

“Wow, wonder what wanting to be alive feels like,” Rin comments dryly as Osamu places a blueberry cupcake straight into your mouth. You hum with content, munching on it absent-mindedly. Yummy-yummy yum. 

The rooftop of Inarizaki High is big and strangely empty if you don’t count the volleyball players sitting on the ground with snacks and textbooks all around them. Both you and Osamu are against the wall of the staircase, while Atsumu sits in the middle, with Suna laying on his right and Gintama crouching on his left. 

“Don’t you two enough sugar? You know that’s not healthy, right?” Atsu asks, instantly destroying the cheerful atmosphere between the two of you. You exchange gazes with Sam, before shrugging. 

“Nope!” you answer simultaneously with your friend, eating your troubles away. 

“You are disgustingly adorable,” Suna deadpans as he takes his bag to place it under his head, “I need somebody to shoot me now.”

“Seriously, why did you bring your little girlfriend there?” Gintama speaks out, his voice gruff and unpleasant. You cringe at his words, really, really disliking being called _their little girlfriend_. This sounds so fucking demeaning and brings back unpleasant memories. Well, at least you have your bento. 

You munch on it, now that your cupcake is gone, completely ignoring him. It’s better not to think about the sudden bloodlust you feel. 

“What, you're jealous, Hitoshi – kun?” Atsumu answers swiftly in your place, smiling cockily. He can probably sense your boiling anger and tries to save the poor soul from being assassinated, “Never had a close female friend before, huh? Do you want your good senpai to teach you about them?”

“We’re the same age!” 

Very deliberately, you roll your eyes. That sounds big coming from a person who behaves like a fucking child. You sigh loudly, shifting your attention to Osamu, “Will he stop yapping his trap, or should I just go fucking go?” 

“No, no, no, no, we need you!” Atsu replies with a rush, his amber eyes widened up in a panic, “Please, sunshine, do it for your childhood friends? You love us, right?” 

You start to question if you. You squint your eyes suspiciously at the bitch, trying to discern what the fuck he could want from you. Osamu sighs, dropping his head on your shoulder as he orders, “Give her food, asshole. She is still growing up, she needs it.” 

“G-growing up?” Atsu stutters as he swallows loudly. You scoff, ready for him to mock your height again, but he doesn’t. Instead, you feel his eyes lingering on your figure when he whispers embarrassed, “W-what do you mean, g-g-growing up?” 

Why the heck is he so red suddenly? 

“Pervert,” Sam comments from your lap and you take your last onigiri, deciding to ignore them for now, “Stop ogling her, you sicko. It’s disgusting.” 

“I’m not-” 

“Bribe me, AtsuAtsu,” you interrupt, irritation irking your eyebrows as you munch on your last onigiri, “I will maybe think about your request then. _Maybe_.” 

You grin at him like a lunatic you secretly are. Okay, not secretly, not really, you wouldn’t smile like that if you wanted to keep your insanity a secret. That’s an awful way to be secretive and you know your ways about being a spymaster, okay?

Atsumu is not so happy about both of you demanding his lunch, and he shows it without any shame, standing up and closing the distance between the three of you. He shoves Osamu out of your lamp, forcing himself down next to you. You are just grateful that Osa doesn’t fall at you, you don’t think your bones would live if he did.

“It’s mine lunch, Samu,” he scoffs, reaching over to pull you towards his chest. You let him drag your body and sit sideways at his lap, still munching on your lunch, “If you want to share, give her yours, you jerk.”

“You were the one to kidnap her,” Osamu comments, kicking him in the ankle as he lifts himself, “I saw you getting lunches from some bitches. I hope they put poison in the food and I will finally have the room to myself.” 

“I’m killing cockroaches for you!” 

“Well, I’m living with one anyway.”

“Food, you idiots,” you moan, drawling your words and ignoring their squabble, “I demand a sacrifice.”

“Heard the lady,” the silverette comments, kicking Atsu once more. 

“Since when she is a lady?” Atsumu mocks you, but before you can’t retaliate, Osa jams his elbow in his twin’s stomach, causing him to keel over in pain. You smile fondly at the image, completely ignoring the judging gazes of the rest of their teammates.

“Give her food, you idiot.” 

“It doesn’t mean I want to eat their lunches, your food is much better, Samu,” he moans out and you shrug, agreeing with him, “And I didn’t kidnap [Name], I just helped her relocate.”

Isn’t it the same? 

“There is no way I’m eating something that was not made by Osa-chan. Bribe me or I’m leaving, TsuTsu,” you inform him. Your onigiri is long gone and you look at your fingers, thinking about licking the rice out of them, “So?” 

You are the one who makes the demands and, to be fair, your demands are simple right now. You desire more food. _Cookies for the cookie monster!_

Osamu sighs, reaching for tissues from his pocket and dragging one out as he leans to wipe your palms. You giggle at that, letting him dote on you. Atsumu looks at you, then to his twin, before scuffling to his bag and taking out his own bento box. 

He slides it up, eyebrow arched up, “We need your help.” 

You take it with the hand that is already clean thanks to the younger twin and nod seriously, “What do you require of me, Commander?” 

With your hands already taken care of, Sam sits beside you before Atsumu can. The blond rolls his eyes, dragging himself to the place next to his twin, his bag on his shoulder. 

“We need _her_?” Gintama speaks up and you shift your gaze towards him. A grimace is easily seen on his face. What’s his problem? You don’t like the way he intoned her, acting as if you are his lesser. 

You decide to ignore him for now. Giggling gleefully to yourself, you open the bento box only to discover a little salad with cherry tomatoes and karaage. Onigiri seems to be gone, which is a damn shame, but karaage. Osamu’s _kaarage_. The subtle smell of spices hits your nose and you are pretty sure that’s how paradise smells like. 

“We do?” Zombie repeats in a complete deadpan. Your nose wrinkles, but you have more important things at hand. Like that little tomato over there. You smile as you reach for it with your chopsticks. 

“Shut up, Rin, we always need [Name],“ Osamu replies dryly, positioning himself on your laps again. You make sure to hold your bento box a little bit higher so he doesn’t end up bumping his forehead into it. 

”And now, you need her too,” you hear Atsumu’s cheerful smile in those words and you don’t know if you like that. You swallow your food and reach for the piece of chicken.

“Wait, wait, wait, do I understand correctly? You mean you want your little girlfriend to help us with homework?” Gintama’s sudden shout makes a shiver run through your spine, “She is in the first year, Atsumu.” 

You flinch and it has nothing to do with spicy kaarage in your mouth. You lift your head and glare death at the cosplayer. Anger sparks under your skin, mixing with uneasiness. You place your chopsticks on Atsu’s bento and leave them near you as you clear your throat. 

“Hey, SamSam,” you start innocently enough, licking your lips, “How much of a problem would it be for the volleyball team if I _slaughtered_ Gintama?”

You tilt your head and smile innocently at the dumbfounded expression of your upperclassman. Osamu hums as he wonders, his eyes a little bit out of his depth, his eyes eyeing the movement of your tongue on your lips. Yeah, you think he is hungry and probably jealous, so stroke his hair. 

“Gintama?!” Gintama shrieks in horror, “Wait – what you are talking about?!”

“Wow, your preferences are a little bit better than I thought,” Suna adds without a care in the world, eyes trained on the sky, “It nearly makes me forget you are a fan of Naruto. Wait, I can’t forget that. Ugh, Naruto.” 

What is his point? Naruto may have faults, but it’s a classic story, one that transcends years and generations. It’s the tale of friendship, bonds, and overcoming odds. What is his problem with something so good, so pure? It has _ninjas_. How can you not like ninjas? Nin-nin, they are handsome as hell! 

“We need him,” the younger twin retorts without any emotions after a second, leaning into your touch, “Probably leave him alone for now.” 

“What do you mean _probably?_!”

You ignore the scream of outrage coming from your future victim and pat his head, “Okay, I will wait until he graduates then. Get something to eat, though, Osa-chan.” 

“But I’m so comfy, [Name].” 

Atsu sighs deeply, like an old man as he hands Osamu his bento box. The younger twin doesn’t react much, just opens it and starts snacking on onigiri. 

“Stop being so damn creepy! You are not killing me, right?!” Gintama stands up and aims his finger at you. You maintain your smile and the boy completely loses his composure, “That’s not funny!”

It is, for you, that’s it.

“Then don’t be an asshole,” you tell him, surprising yourself by not stuttering, “You think I can’t do the stupid homework you were too stupid to do because I’m a year younger? You stupid bitch. I can do that with my eyes fucking closed.”

He stares at your incredulously, challenging you. You pursue your lips, irritated and angry as hell as you hold your hand in the air. 

“Your homework and pen, Atsu-chan.” 

Your friend smiles cheekily and pulls out the said items without trouble. He places both his notebook and cute pen with a little puppy on the end with it. You swiftly open the said notebook, gazing at the problem he has to solve. Nuclear power, one of your favorite subjects ever. Radiation and its effects are super interesting to learn about, after all. What sort of future Evil Overlord of the World wouldn’t appreciate something so grand and terrifying? Like Mr. Oppenheimer has once said, _Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds._

You twirl the pen confidently between your fingers, feeling very much excited about your task. You wave the back of your hand, motioning to him to get off your lap. He moans, disgruntled, but lifts himself and you move to do Atsu’s homework. 

You focus on the task, completely muting the ongoing conversation around you. You have much more important things to focus on, duh, like the effects radioactive energy has on the human body. It’s fun, writing about it. You saw many documentaries about nuclear power and read even more books on the topic, so there is quite the passion in your word

With that done, you think about writing about the use of nuclear bombs, but before you can, Atsumu forcibly removes his notebook to your outrage's noises, “It’s enough, sunshine, really. we understand that you are a nerd.”

“Where is my thank you?” you pop your lips in dismay, “And I wasn’t even to write anything cool! Give me that back, you little shit.” 

“You can write whatever you want in mine, darling, if you want to,” Osamu saves the world, presenting you his own notebook. You happily take it and start to engross yourself in nuclear power. Osamu has actually written something in, but you can totally add more things. 

“See?” Atsumu shows off your work with an overconfident smile, “She is a year younger girl, and yet, our sunshine doesn’t have a problem with doing our homework unlike you. You are such an idiot, _Gintama-kun_.”

“A fucking tur, really, Gintama-kun,” Osamu agrees, the undertone of anger hiding in his voice. You giggle and pat him comfortingly on the shoulder, smiling behind Osamu’s notebook. 

“It’s Ginjima!”

“I don’t believe idiots have a voice in the matter, Gintama-kun,” you deride him with a click of your pen, “Please, feel free to share your grade on the task. I can’t wait to see it.” 

“I think that nickname is going to stick around,” rolls out of Suna’s tongue and you spy with the corner of his eye nodding seriously, “Gintama-kun.”

Once again, a giggle leaves your mouth. It is a much evil one and one that is echoed by Atsumu’s chuckle and Osa’s wide smile. Outrage appearing on Gintama’s face is hilarious, making you completely block the fact that Zombie just teased the idiot with you all. Huh, that’s - that’s strangely sweet, you guess. You shot him a fleeting gaze, but his face appears as collected as ever. 

He is a hard person to understand. On the other hand, Gintama is not, like at all, it’s not even funny. The vein on his forehead seems to be popped while he shouts out, “Why are you with them, Suna? I thought you hated them!”

Did he? You never thought that Zombie disliked your idiots. You think. Maybe. Okay, you are not sure, but for you, they looked more like friends than enemies. Possibly frenemies, but definitely not foes. You click your lips, knowing very well that their nemeses don’t survive long in this world. Suna is still alive and he is even spending time with them, which means they are fond of him. 

The same goes for Gintama, though you are pretty sure he is now on their shit lists. They can be, well, super overprotective over you. Not to say how easy to anger they are and how vicious they behave. So, yeah, RIP Gintama, you will not miss the fucker. 

“Too much work to go against them,” the noirette shrugs, not looking up from his phone before you feel his fox-like eyes on yourself. Confused, you lift your head and meet his gaze, “What is an acceptable bribe, Date?” 

You didn’t even think he would remember your last name, to be honest, so you are a little bit surprised when he addresses you. Your gaze shoots to Osamu and Atsumu and you notice them shrugging, saying it’s alright to answer him. He is not going to use this knowledge to poison you. Or at least they believe that. 

“Muffins,” you chirp back, cheerfully bobbing your head, “Can I talk about the Cuban Missile Crisis and how the world nearly was annihilated?”

“I wish it was so go ahead,” he answers uninterestedly, watching the sky above him, “Will get you muffins later. I’m too dead to stand up now.” 

Okay, that’s an _interesting_ answer to say at least. You decide to ignore that, returning to Sam’s notebook as the owner of the homework throws a paper airplane at resident Zombie, “You don’t even know what she is speaking about, right?”

Suna doesn’t even try to dodge the Messerschmitt Bf 109, letting it hit his nose before swatting it from his face, “I don’t understand a word and I’m pretty comfortable with that.”

“You are as bad as Atsu-chan,” you twist your lips in scoff, deciding to go into the lecture mode, “The Cuban Missile Crisis took place- “

A loud groan interrupts you. You instantly stop, spooked, and look around to find the source only to feel Sam’s hand on your shoulder. He gives it a little squeeze, “Ignore the idiots. Tell me about it later, darling?” 

You nod, feeling your nerves easing as he nuzzles his head onto the nook of your neck. Humming, you stretch your left hand to ruffle his hair. 

“Osamu, can’t believe somebody as good at jump floaters is so pathetic,” Gintama sends a backhanded compliment towards him, trying to provoke the younger twin even further. Osa doesn’t even blink, though, so the worst person on this planet continues, “I want to try receiving it.” 

“Talk to me when I can do it at the whim. That one was more luck than anything else,” the silverette mumbles into your skin, “I will work on them more. I like the idea of getting on the other team’s nerves by having me go just after Tsumu.” 

“They are going to hate that,” you don’t have to raise your eyes to know that Atsu is smilingly condescendingly. You can totally hear that in his voice alone, “But most important, Samu-kun, are you admitting I’m better? You are.” 

“Dream on, loser.” 

A smile blossoms on your face. With one more movement of your fingers, you end the sentence in the notebook and close it. You place on the younger twin’s head and stifle a giggle as it falls when he shakes his head. For a second, he looks confused, before taking the notebook into his hands. 

He doesn’t even look to make sure you didn’t write something stupid or embarrassing. He just flickers his fingers around your cheek, silently thanking you. A shy smile blossoms on your face, but it disappears when you look at Suna. His droopy eyes seem to observe you so gesture bashfully, trying to send a notion that you need his own notebook. He understands that and starts to lazily move his hand, searching for his bag without looking.

“TsuTsu, close your mouth before the fly flies in,” you caution as you watch the sluggish movements of Rin’s hand. Seriously, can’t he just stand up? What is wrong with him? “I’m pretty sure you are not a frog to enjoy them.” 

“No, let him eat one," Sam is fast to tease his twin, bumping his shoulder against the blond and causing, ironically, to him to close his mouth, “He will probably enjoy it.”

“Samu, you are awful.” 

“Why are you talking about volleyball on the break anyway, demons?” Suna asks, finally standing up and grabbing his notebook. Was it really so hard? He moans so much about it, geez, and you thought you were bad, “Let me fucking live.”

Your nose wrinkles and the words leave before you can stop them, “Why do you play volleyball if you don’t like it so much, Naruto-hater?” 

He sighs and just throws his notebook in your direction. You squeak, not expecting that at all. You don’t know how the hell you catch it, but you are very glad you did. If you didn’t, it could make a spectacle falling from the motherfucking roof. Is he stupid?! You turn, ready to yell, but you stop the moment you meet those light irises of his. 

“Because,” is all he says, not even pretending to care. He shrugs as you continue to glare at him, but before you can say something, he plops down just next to you and lies down, face down. 

“Oh, twat was deep,” you mumble to yourself, a little bit uncomfortable at the proximity of the boy. What was his position in volleyball anyway? You are sure somebody told you, but you can’t remember anymore. 

“Yeah, I know,” he replies dryly. Even his answer comes super late, wow, he is really into his aesthetics. Sighing deeply, you open his notebook.

You flutter your eyelashes in surprise, a little bit taken aback by his penmanship. It is like looking at calligraphy in the museum. It’s not that twins or you have an atrocious manner of writing, but, yeah, this is something entirely different. You will not be able to fake it, but it seems he doesn’t care, so you shift pages until you can find the task. You start to write, as idiots around start to talk again. Don’t listen to them, [Name]. You will only be infected with their idiocy.

“I want to play practice match so badly-” 

“It’s your fault anyway, Atsumu,” Gintama points up saltily, “By the way, your idea about going to Miyagi was absolutely brilliant, seriously, you are such a genius.”

“Shut up, jerk.” 

“Playing with someone would be nice,” Osamu hums as he rolls out of you to take his own lunch. You see him munching on onigiri mindlessly, “I’m getting tired of seeing Tsumu’s ugly face anyway.” 

“Who are you calling ugly?!” 

“It would be nice to see you play,” you whisper, not expecting anyone to hear you. You smile to yourself, a little bit bitterly. You know that the practice matches are not the same as the official ones - the word practice indicates so, but still, it wouldn’t be bad to see them enjoy themselves. 

It was so long since they could. 

Your fingers stop and you look at the word you just wrote, trying to remember what you were doing. Ah, yeah, the nuclear warheads- 

“You didn’t see them on the court before, Date?”

What question is that? You saw them on the court so many times, though you never got to the Nationals as part of the cheering squad. Your idiot of the father didn’t want you to leave Hyogo prefecture on your own. You watched them at preliminaries, though. You saw them cheering when they won and baffling when they didn’t.

You used to take their hands and buy their ice creams on the way home, listening to them complaining about their teammates and trying to fight back tears. Then, you used to have sleepovers back on the ryokan, building pillows forts and watching some awful horrors from the nineties.

The war never changes, but life does. Your self-exile from the public life changed both your life and theirs. You shake your head, banishing the thoughts from your mind. You are not going to change the past without the time machine, not that you would want to, and guess what? The time machine still was not stolen from Area 51. 

“I-I did,” you admit, fidgetting uncomfortably with your pen, “But it’s different when I’m the manager. I can see all of the embarrassing shit Atsumu will do so much closer.”

It’s not exactly a lie. The manager can see everything much clearer, sitting just next to the coach, and they - Atsumu and Osamu are older now. They wouldn’t probably want you to baby them if they lost, but you still would, duh, of course, they are your boys.

Atsumu smiles mischievously at you and you feel a headache coming, “Just say you want to watch me, sunshine, don’t be ashamed. A lot of people do.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lord Lucifer, you seeing this shit? What’s next, a pick–up line? You roll your eyes, quickly ending the sentence and closing the notebook. You take the pen and throw it at Atsu’s head. 

“I always want to watch you, Tsu-chan,” you speak out in a hushed tone when he lifts his head in outrage. You use your most serious voice and make sure that no spark of mischievousness is left in your eyes. 

“What,” Osamu deadpans loudly at the same time as Atsu stutters, his face furiously red, “W-What?”

You put your middle finger up, stick your tongue out and then pull a little bit of your eyelid, “I want to see you mess up, you dummy.” 

Silence reigns over all of you before Atsu drops, his hands covering his face as he screams out, “You are awful, sunshine! Stop spending time with Samu! I freaking hate the two of you!” 

You hum happily and Osamu tries to snap a photo of Atsumu rolling from the embarrassment. They are both so childish, you can’t help but think that it is charming. You really can’t get over the fact those two have so many fans who don’t know even half of their better qualities.

You look at the rest of your companions, grumpy Gintama who does his best to not look at you and Suna, as dead as ever, even when he lies down. Maybe even more as he lies down. How someone like that plays a sport so demanding as volleyball in a school as prestigious as Inarizaki? 

That’s a mystery, a true mystery, and the detective [Name] is on the case. Curiosity piqued, you slide next to him, placing his notebook on his chest. He doesn’t react, his eyes closed so poke him in the arm, asking, “Hey, Zombie-senpai, do you always look so dead tired?” 

Okay, so maybe you are not super smooth. He still opens one of his eyes, very lazily raising his chin towards you, “I feel personally offended by this, person-who-wants-to-continue-living. Wonder what that feels like.” 

He closes his eye, not answering any of your questions. You puffy your cheeks, irritation dancing under your skin and you poke him again. He doesn’t react, so you poke him again, “I have a name, you silly. You can call me it.” 

It’s a strangely bold request, you suppose, but you don’t exactly enjoy being called simply _Date_ by someone so close to your friends. You wouldn’t mind becoming friends with him - he offered you muffins - and well. You fidget nervously with your hair, thinking that this was pretty stupid and reckless of you. 

You never think things through, don’t you? 

“Huh?”

Wow, you accomplished it. He opened both of his eyes! You titter happily, teasing edge to your words as he continues to gaze at you, “I will be calling you Rin-kun too! How about it?” 

"No deal,” he answers instantly and closes his eyes instantly, “You are way too young to call me that. Get taller first.” 

Fucker. Oh, wait, you can use his position. Oh, that’s going to be fun! You clap your hands and giggle, taking the notebook from his chest and placating it on his face. He snorts before he takes it and throws it at his bag, closing his eyes again. That’s the real reason he sat next to you – he doesn’t have to deal with going up to reclaim his propriety, lazy bastard. 

“Rin-kun,” Atsumu mocks him as he kicks his twin, “Are you too embarrassed to call [Name] by her name? I understand, she is so beautiful.”

“Shut up, you stupid creeper,” Osamu kicks him right back while he reaches towards you, pulling you into his arms and away from Rin. You giggle as he does it, letting him wrap himself around you. 

“I don’t understand your relationship at all,” Gintama grunts with a frown, watching the two of you cuddle, “Who are you dating? Osamu or Atsumu?!” 

“We’re childhood friends, you bastard,” you stare at Gintama venomously, managing to not stutter at all, “You have to be super lonely to make everything about romantic relationships, you chauvinist.” 

“I have childhood friends and I don’t behave with them like _that_ ,” he snaps back. You roll your eyes, thinking that being childhood friends with somebody like Gintama has to suck. Like, a lot. Because. What is that even supposed to mean? Is he afraid of hugging people and showing affection?

“Your loss,” you proclaim as you gaze on the sky just like Suna did before. Aaa, it’s blue. And now you are really craving some more of those blueberry cupcakes.

“You are just jealous, Gintama-kun ~” 

“Gintama-kun.” 

“Gintama-kun.”

“Sunarin, not _again_!”

* * *

With practice, comes the laundry. The laundry never fucking ends. You sigh, watching it spiral in the washing machine through the glass. It seems to be mocking. You hate it so much here. Seriously, you are now thinking about burning the whole school down. 

You hiss, fighting the tears of frustration from falling down your eyes. You rub your eyelids furiously, refusing to cry because of something like _that_. 

Doing laundry is not super difficult, just exhausting. Tiring mentally, tiring physically, but you can’t the frustration and anger coiling through your stomach. You swallow and leave the washing room, and then the whole building.

 _John Doe, you are fucking dead_ , you think to yourself, crossing arms around your chest, _Leaving his boxers behind as if you were his maid, his mother, his girlfriend, or his wife!_

You are none of those things, thank you very much, and wouldn’t want to interact with him even if he was the last person in the world. You shake your head, your ponytail swaying as you come to the realization that you can’t take this any minute longer. You don’t want to touch his awful underwear. Is he getting a kick out of you touching it? 

_Fucking clodhopper. This is how much I hate you, shithead, that I reverse to such an old insult, you cunt._

Your anger is profound you nearly don’t notice both the ace and captain of your team, not wearing their jersey as they are coming back from their run. You send them a trembling smile, waving your hand a little. You don’t expect them to change the trajectory, Shinsuke practically dashing towards you with a wrinkle on his forehead. 

You blink as he comes closer, wondering if he is cold in this weather. You are cold, and you are wearing your wonderful, burgundian jacket. 

“You look pale, [Name],” Shinsuke speaks out. You blink at how composed he looks, not behaving as if he just run several kilometers but rather stepped out of the shower. Seriously, you don’t notice sweat clinging to his forehead. How it is even possible?

“Date-san,” Allan Edgar Poe greets you before you can answer. He arches his eyebrow, looking at Shinsuke and then to you, before he nods, “He is right. Are you alright?”

You are definitely not.

Should you talk about that with your upperclassmen? What if they think you are overdramatizing? You rock on your feet, unsure how to proceed, but then decide to take the dive. What’s the worst thing that can happen, haha. Wait, don’t answer that, you don’t want to know. 

“Well, you know,” you start hesitantly, twisting your lips in a thin line. You click your tongue, “Shinsuke, Ojiro-senpai, can I ask you something strange?”

You notice Ojiro gazing back at Shinsuke, his face a little bit baffled when he answers, “We will do what we can to help you, Date-san. Right, Shinsuke?” 

The way he intones the captain’s name is a little bit strange, but Shinsuke doesn’t seem to mind, nodding, “Of course we will. What’s wrong?” 

You shift your gaze and tap your fingers against your arm. Taking a deep breath you answer, no matter how humiliating it will make you, “Is-is this normal of members to leave their underwear in the club? Because I’m a little uncomfortable with that and, well-”

“What the fuck.”

“Someone did what?!”

Your fearful voice is interrupted by those belonging to the actual sons of Satan. You turn around and notice your personal devils, looking angry and ready to kill. What you were hoping for, but maybe not right now, as you are talking with Shinsuke who is going to go – wait. 

To your surprise, Shinsuke doesn’t start to scold twins for their outburst, instead, he nods at you firmly.

“I will take care of that,” he says ominously, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, [Name]. I will make sure this doesn’t happen again. Please, excuse me.”

Ojiro looks at you and shifts Shinsuke, then he brings it back to you. And then – Doesn’t he get tired? His neck is going to end up hurt if he can’t decide on who he wants to train his eyes. Fuckity fuck, he finally stops before you become dizzy, opening his mouth in little _o_ shape, before smirking and going after Shinsuke. 

“[Name]-chan!” you feel Atsumu snatching your arm and so, you give the blond the attention he so craves for, “My sunshine, listen, remember the elementary school? The fourth grade? I think his name was Iori or something, that kid with the cap you wanted.” 

“Fire,” Osamu adds darkly, grasping your second arm, “A lot of fire, let’s burn the motherfucker down.” 

You look at Shinsuke, who pretends he didn’t hear anything and just continues on his route, dazed Ojiro in his tracks. You _smile_ , flames dancing in your eyes. 

* * *

This afternoon the three of you take those boxers on a stick and burn them to ashes to Kurosu’s facepalm, Shinsuke’s apathy, and Suna’s curiosity. One of the club members starts to shiver.

You laugh maniacally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what they teach in Japanese schools. So I’m going all in Inarizaki is a weird school for rich kids shtick. It’s funnier this way, I think! :) Suna is slowly, but surely walking into a harem. He is lazy, give him time.
> 
> This chapter was edited on 15.02.2021.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Hope you have a wonderful day :)


	9. In which you earn your new name (not that you want to).

You hum a little, trying your best to ignore the stares of the students around you. The population of Inarizaki, it seems, always _stares_. It makes you uncomfortable, of course, it does, who wouldn’t when all of those eyes are trained at you? 

Your dream of normal school life is over. _But that is okay_ , you think in your mind, your fingers interlaced with those of Osamu, _It is okay for now._ There were no snide comments following your every movement, no sharp eyes waiting for you to trip, no flowers waiting for you at the desk. Your shoes didn’t disappear from your locker and your bag was not damp from the juice. 

You can deal with the gazes. Probably. 

“It is the _Princess_.” 

Okay, you take that back. You stop, the whisper making you take back. Osamu pauses next to you, using his free hand to hit the back of Atsu’s neck. The blond groans as he turns around, a complaint forming on his lips, but you are faster. 

“Princess?” you repeat, tilting your head in confusion. The word feels strange on your tongue, being so rarely used. You tug on Osamu’s hand, making him dip his head towards you, “Do we have a princess attending the school? Is the monarchy reestablished? Did revolution happen without me?” 

He chuckles softly, not understanding how serious the situation is. You rock on the balls of your feet, your eyes looking for the source of your discomfort. Finally, the fall on the short boy with red hair. You notice him blushing under your gaze as the boy next to him snickers, “Your princess is looking at you, Shuji.”

You glance around, seeking the _princess._

Where the fuck did she hide? 

Now, you expect to hear a lot of strange shit in the corridors of your school. Lucifer knows that Inarizaki students have no chill whatsoever, whispering every time you appear with one of the twins. The thing is, there is no way you could predict that the student body decided to overthrow the democratically chosen government and reestablish monarchy. 

You can only blame yourself for underestimating Inarizaki’s students. Fuck, you have no idea if there any princesses attending your school, be it Japanese or international. You know that there is a niece of the Emperor attending Inarizaki, but the said girl bears no blood relation to him, being the daughter of his wife’s sister. 

The red-haired kid holds your gaze for about three seconds, before shyly waving in your direction. You flutter your eyes, confused, while Atsumu notices the gesture and dons his fakest smile. Osamu doesn’t even try and growls at him. 

Straight-up growls. The kid doesn’t stand a chance and you don’t even blame him for running away, though the predatory eyes of the twins follow him even as he disappears around the corner and - well, shit. Your head spins as you come to the understanding that he called one of you a _princess_. 

_What the actual fuck. Cthulhu? Do you hear this shit?_

You are pretty sure the Ancient One would pull the same face full of disgust, just like you. Is he bullying Atsumu? Out of the three of you, the blond is the only person that comes close to the appearance of a stereotypical princess. 

Your lips twist into a grimace as the anger sparks in your ribcage. He is dead meat. Your fingers coil around Osamu as you speak in the hushed tone, trying to cheer him up with your light teasing, “Your new nickname doesn’t suit you at all, TsuTsu.” 

“She is right, Tsumu. You are the ugliest princess ever, too much inbreeding in your line,” Osa yawns, his hand twitching a bit before pulls you gently forward, continuing on your way towards your classroom, “Move along, you idiot princess,” he throws over his shoulder to his older brother, who remains motionless, “Or we will leave you behind. It’s not the first person who is giving you stupid nicknames, c’mon.” 

A crinkle appears between your eyebrows. The historical part of your brain wants to argue that Atsu wouldn’t be the ugliest princess. Some princesses weren’t so beautiful and the reason for that is really easy to guess. 

Yeah, you are talking about incest, way too much incest. Cleopatra VII The Great was supposedly super, super beautiful, but it was something you always doubted. Do you need to talk about how the Ptolemaic dynasty of Egypt married brothers and sisters to each other? At least Habsburg's married cousins, not siblings and you can’t believe you are actually praising them for that!

“Tsu-chan, come one,” you call him, leaving the important matters for later, “We’re going to get your throne later, don’t worry, first you have to pass history!” 

“I can’t believe the two of you are so oblivious and dense,” Atsumu sends the two of you a conceited smile as he catches up, “Wait I can believe Samu is, but you, sunshine? I expected better of you, [Name]-chan.” 

You snort at that. He should be known better - you don’t do with expectations, you never quite did, being the failure of the family and all. You press your palm against Osamu’s and the silverette looks back at you, “Princesses weren’t so pretty, too much incest in their veins. Habsburgs, duh? 

“Don’t talk about _i-word,_ [Name],” Osamu wheezes theatrically, as he raises his second hand to place it near his heart. He continues to beg of you in a mocking tone, “You don’t want to give Tsumu some weird ideas, right?” 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Atsumu accuses with a grimace tugging on his lips. He pretends to gag and you giggle, while SamSam rolls his eyes, “No way, Samu! You’re way too ugly.” 

“Pot calling kettle black,” the silver rate retorts dryly, face contorting with disgust. His thumb caresses the skin of your hand as he continues to insult his twin. You giggle at the bickering, “You are way uglier than me anyway.” 

Silly idiots. You glance at the faces of your friends and feel sweat falling down your chin. Both of them are attractive as hell and if somebody claims otherwise, they are dirty liars with pants on fire. Seriously, who wouldn’t appreciate their handsome faces and lean, muscular bodies? You could never think about them in-well, in an _s-sexual_ manner, but even you can see it. 

“Hey, [Name]-chan, which one of us is the most handsome?” Atsumu asks you suddenly, eyes glimmering with a strange light. With the corner of your eye, you notice Osamu straightening his back. 

He is interested in the answer too? You guess you can entertain them by answering it if it’s so important to them. Humming the Murder Melody, you drop their hands and skip several steps ahead. You spin around, your eyes training at them, “Let me see your faces, then!” 

You link your hands behind your back, observing them intently. You always thought that people who talked about how they can't tell twins apart are full of shit. Seriously. Yes, they are similar and yes, they are twins. The fact that they are not the same person remains. Not even taking into consideration how different their personalities are, their appearances are not identical and any person who claims otherwise can already start digging their own grave.

To start with, both of them don the eyes in the light brown color, though Atsumu's eyes are a tad brighter, coming more to gold than brown. Osamu's, on the other hand, are much warmer, more resembling the color of deep amber. 

Tsumu’s ears are smaller and there is a little scar behind his left one, exactly in the place where you bit him about four years ago. Osa’s waist is a little bit thinner and his hands are also a bit rougher, holding years of expertise both in volleyball and in cooking. He even has little scars on his fingers, something Tsu would never be able to live through because he claims it would change the way he sets the ball. Don't even let you even start on how different they carry themselves or on their voices, or -

So, yeah, your point stands: they don't look the same. End of the discussion.

That doesn't help you, though. You have no idea how to answer, but honesty is the best policy. You glance at both of them with a critical eye, your hand coming under your chin as you ponder. The structures of their faces are aesthetically pleasing. They are tall and muscular, but not overly so, standing more on the lean side, and well, they both were very popular with girls.

Okay, so they are both handsome for you. How about others? They both used to be super popular with girls, always getting a ton of gifts on Valentine’s Day to Osamu’s mirth. Not to even mention how many love letters you watched burn in front of your eyes. Atsu even had a girlfriend about two years ago, but Osa claimed he is not interested in dating in the slightest, so you are not exactly sure how that is going to help you decide. 

You wrinkle your nose. You have no idea what to say. You are a very biased judge, after all, and your opinion will always be colored by your love towards him. 

They are both pretty good-looking, you suppose.

“I can’t decide,” you, ironically, decide, dropping your hands before clapping them, “You are both pretty, Atsu-chan, Osa-chan. Very pretty! Probably the prettiest. Deal with it the rest on your own.”

Of course, it's not enough for the demons. What have you thought? That they will be satisfied with that non-answer? Haha, no way, not them.

There is a moment of silence, as the two of them just look at you. Your face doesn’t morph into anything, as you do your best to hold the most serious and mature expression you can muster. You are damn proud of your effort until you hear their snickers. 

“Why are you so damn proud of this statement, marshmallow?” Osamu’s words may be cutting, but he smiles at you softly, "It was awful and adorable at the same time. Now, tell me how I'm much better than Samu."

“That’s cheating and you know it,” Atsumu seizes one of your cheeks, while Osamu grabs another. They share a glance, and then they both pull at the same, "You can't just say that. It doesn't count. Just choose one of us already."

You whine loudly, before slapping their hands away. What are they, aunts from American drama? They are annoying just like them, damn it. You also don’t like being ordered around, much more ordered to decide which one of your best friends you prefer.

_(You just had to have them both, your damn -)_

You fight back the urge to shiver as the words echo in your mind. It's not like that. It's not, no matter what voices in your head say, no matter what people may claim in the past. You bite down on your lip, trying your best to not become visibly distraught. You know what they would do if they saw your sad expression: freak out.

“You know I love you both equally,” you finally say, shaking your head furiously, “I can’t choose anyone, fuck you both.”

Atsumu throws his bangs out of his eyes with his hand. He sighs, before placing his arm on your head. What are you, his damn handrest? You puff your cheeks, already regretting ever meeting them. Why did your stupid heart decide to love them anyway?

“That’s what mama always says as well, but we all know she prefers me over Samu,” he informs the two of you. You feel sweat rolling from your forehead in exasperation. She fucking doesn’t, you know, he knows it, Sam knows it, the whole fucking world knows it, “I’m the better one.”

Osamu furrows his eyebrows furiously. Oh, you need the Pocky sticks or popcorn, because the Miya twins are on their bullshit again. You feel yourself rolling your eyes as your friend pokes Atsumu harshly on his cheek, his lips pursued in the pout.

“You are a lying asshole,” he defends himself swiftly by attacking Atsumu. Hey, the best defense is to attack, isn’t it? “I help her with dishes. You know that she prefers _me_.”

She doesn’t have a preference, really. She loves both of these idiots, gods know why because you certainly don't. In the way, it's the same thing for you, but she is their dearest mom. They are deaf to logic, too busy arguing about stupid things. You start to question all choices in your life that lead you to this moment.

“I take the trash out!”

“Oh, you speak about it like some great achievement, but we both know that just means for you to go out! Because you’re the trash!”

“What did you just say to me?!”

Okay, you suppose they hear all about how they are equal from Mama Miya all the time and they have enough. But how can you stop their stupid squabble without taking a side? There's no way you can decide, simply because you are a biased judge that looks at them and sees literal _hearts_ next to their personas. You wouldn't change a thing about them.

For you, they are ideal, perfect, your precious friends. Not that you can tell them that. They will hate those words. You have a problem without a clear solution, you suppose as a wrinkle appears on your nose. 

What can you say that will satisfy both of them? What would _you_ like to hear if you had a twin sister? That's too far-fetched, though. You can't even imagine having a second you. The world wouldn't probably be able to survive this.

There is an idea, forming on the edge of your mind. It's not exactly something super, super creative, but it's corny enough that it should work. Well, then, you peer at them again, ignoring the shouting resonating in the air. You clap your hands to get their attention and when they look at you, you beam at them.

A little blush forms on your face as the twinkly and sparkling feeling warms your entire chest, “How about this?" you propose, raising your finger and waving it a little, "For little old me, both of you are the most beautiful men on the Earth.”

Osamu smiles at you and you grin right back, your face full of adoration. Your friend completely abandons his twin for you, coming closer and leaning towards you. You can feel his lips on the top of your head, as he gently kisses it, before taking your hand into yours. Your fingers interlace and you close your eyes, enjoying the warmth he gives you. As you open them back, you notice his tender expression.

His ears are a little bit red, you realize, giggling. Just a little. A tiny little bit. Atsumu, on the other hand, is completely flustered. His whole face is pink, as his cheeks flush furiously, making you nearly scared for him. Nearly, as he instantly opens his mouth when he sees the two of you looking at him. 

“How can you say things like that with a straight face?!” he accuses, pointing his finger at the two of you two, “You are going to kill me. You too, Samu, react more! Why don’t you react more?!” 

“You are such a kid, Tsumu,” Osamu rolls his eyes and you giggle, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter as he chides the older twin, “Grow the hell up.” 

You offer your second hand to Tsu, and he takes it, of course, he does, even as he tries to cover his embarrassed face with his second one. 

They are still the most beautiful men for _you_. Even with those stupid, reddened cheeks. 

You throw your intervened hands up into the air, feeling defeated, “Of course I’m going to, TsuTsu. Why are we talking about this like some sudden revelation?”

You giggle, happily, and just like that, the incident with the word _princess_ is long forgotten.

* * *

Not for long, of course, not. Nothing good can ever last in your life. 

You are enjoying your lunch break with Sara in your classroom. After one of the most chaotic mathematics lesson you have ever attended - the teacher was sober this time, so he divided you into two groups and gave you all squirt guns, saying that the group with the most correct answers will have five more minutes to prepare for the battle - you needed peace of her presence, not the chaos of the Miya twins. 

You don’t know why the hellish twins decided to respect your decision and let you eat with Kizuchi, but you are not going to look into that horse’s teeth. 

The two of you joined your tables in the class, rather than go to the stupidly luxurious canteen of Inarizaki High. It’s nicer that way. Most of your classmates prefer the cafeteria, though you are not sure, which leaves you and Kizuchi alone if you don’t count three boys in the corner of the room. 

You tear your chopstick apart, moving them to attack your rice. You smile as the familiar taste hits your mouth. Your bento, as always, was made by Gordon Ramsay Junior. 

Osamu decided to go with something super traditional this time: your rice was cutely shaped in the form of a bunny, your fish - salmon, yay - was lightly grilled with cherry tomatoes. Sara is having something a little more sophisticated as you spy pieces of nigiri in her bento. 

She doesn’t seem to mind you peering, only smiling with her glossy lips, “We are having a practice match with Kabayaki Academy and the coach thinks about subbing me in during one of the sets.”

“That sounds super cool, Kizuchi-san,” you nod at her, wiping the corners of the rice from your mouth, “I’m sure you are going to kill it.”

Or even better, _murder_ it. You giggle to yourself, wondering if Sara Kizuchi would be capable of murder. Probably not, the blonde is a good person, too good of a person. You still don’t understand how you ended up becoming her friend.

This is what you are, right? Friends. Friends who eat together lunches, who talk during breaks, and who encourage each other. It’s a nice feeling, having a female friend to talk to because Yua - Yua is long gone for you, isn’t she? 

Kizuchi smiles at you warmly and your chest sparks with warmth. A bubble of happiness grows at the bottom of your stomach as you swallow a piece of salmon. It's a wonderful feeling to eat with somebody from your class.

“I hope so! Our setter is demanding and I’m so afraid of not being able to spike her tosses,” she tells you, nose wrinkling as she has to remember the said setter. You click your tongue, the word demanding reminding you of Atsu, “I just don’t want to mess up and disappoint people, Date-san.” 

“Y-You won’t disappoint anybody, Kizuchi-san, I’m sure. You just h-have to try your hardest, right?” you send her a smile that you hope is at least a little bit reassuring. You furrow your eyebrows, the familiar feeling of overprotectiveness sparkling inside you, “If somebody tries to start something with you, just tell me, please. I will curse them out for you.”

Her giggle is interrupted by a voice going dreamily behind your back, “I would love you to curse on me, _Princess_.”

_What did you just hear?_

Very slowly, you turn your attention towards the three boys sitting at the corner only to see all of them watching you with bedroom eyes. You swallow with difficulty, trying to understand what the fuck is going on. 

One of them swoons, “To be cursed by the Vixen of Inarizaki High would be a dream.” 

Are you being delusional? Is that some sort of parallel universe? Were you kidnapped by aliens? Wait, no, aliens don’t exist. But then, what is happening? You heard something very clearly, but the words are just so stupid you have trouble comprehending them.

_Does he mean you?_

Impossible, right-

“Lady [Name],” a boy goes off, his voice full of rapture as he seems to be devouring your whole with his eyes, “She is so, so sexy.” 

Your blood comes to the boiling point and suddenly, you feel a familiar feeling coursing through your veins. Rage is a good feeling. If you are angry, it means you are not scared or sad. Yes, you are an angery person, after all. You are a violent person, after all. 

You grasp your chopsticks a little bit tighter, “What the absolute fuck?” you ask them, eyes flaming. Your voice is raised and you glare dangers into the degenerates that dared to say something so weird and gross, just plain gross! What is wrong with people?! “Repeat this to my face, you bitch.”

They don’t look scared or shocked at your aggressive response. No, it’s worse, because the boys who used to whisper happily in the corner, look at you with _reverence._ You recoil, clutching your chopstick as you decide to stand up to - to - to - You don’t know what you will do, but you are going to do _something_! 

“Ah, Date-san!” you feel Kizuchi’s hand on yours, as she tries to stop you. She tugs at it a little, begging you to reconsider and what sort of a friend you would be if you didn’t? You look back at her the same as the voice resounds in the room. 

“The Vixen just cursed at me,” one of the boys sighs deeply in amazement, behaving as if he saw goddess, not you, “I can die happily, now. Dear father and mother, thank you for bringing me to this world. It was all worth it.” 

A loud noise hits your ears and you turn to the source of the turmoil only to see another boy on the floor, unconscious. Your brain short-circuits and you part your lips in the shape of a small _o_. What the hell is wrong with them? No, fuck that, what the hell is wrong with this school? He fainted. Somebody just fainted, fainted, fainted. Because you cursed on him. 

“Hold on, Keisuke! You need to live!”

“She will curse more at you if you do!”

You - you don't have words. Like, no words at all, your mind is empty. Is this some sort of dream? Maybe a simulation, or a test? Or, did SamSam put drugs in your bento? Wait, no, no way. 

You look back at Sara, absolutely dumbfounded, practically begging with your eyes for help. She sighs, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, she leans forward, beckoning to you to sit down. You do that, nearly dropping into your seat and she reaches a hand to squeeze your arm, trying to comfort you through this madness.

“They started calling you this yesterday,” she whispers gently, her eyes jumping wildly through the room, “The Vixen, little princess of Inarizaki High. They were very proud of it, even though I’m pretty sure the first one to call you was Miya Atsumu-senpai, not any of them.” 

“The Vixen?” you mumble incoherently, “Like, in female fox? Or a troublesome woman? What? I don’t understand, Kizuchi-san.”

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, looking at you with pitying eyes, “I think it means the both and goes into the name of our school. Our mascot is a fox, after all, even if we are named after the goddess.” 

In the background, you hear even more screams, but you ignore them. The new information just short circuits your poor brain. It seems burning people’s belongings and then laughing maniacally at the said display doesn’t make people fear you. Do they have some sort of masochistic fetish? Is that what’s going on?

“I have stalkers?” you question, head slamming into space at your table, “I have stalkers. I just wanted a normal school life, is that too much to ask for? I hate this so much, Cthulhu, please help me.” 

“More like fans I hope,” she looks in the direction of a still fainted boy and sighs. She stands up, voice raising, “Should we call the ambulance? Ah, yeah, hello, let’s get him to the nurse-”

What the actual fuck is wrong with this school.

* * *

You are not even free of this at practice.

“[Name].”

Shinsuke’s voice is music to your eyes. You turn around and here he stands the king of the volleyball team himself. You send him a small smile, fighting back the exhaustion, as you try to position the basket full of laundry more comfortably in your hands.

“Hi, hi, hi, Shinsuke,” you chirp at him, trying your best to sound more cheerful than you feel like, “Do you need something from me?”

“I wanted to talk with you,” he nods at your curtly, an eyebrow quirked up. He steps closer, taking the basket from your hands, “If something is too heavy for you, then ask for help. How does it assist us if you end up hurting yourself?”

You can’t help but breathe out from the relief as the weight disappears. It’s not like you will ever tell somebody who wants to help you _no_. Shinsuke doesn’t seem to struggle with it as much as you did and so, smile, grateful beyond any words. 

As merciless as ever. As kind as ever. You smile at him, “Thank you so much. We can talk while I hang the laundry?” 

Your shy proposition is met with objections, but very sweet objections, “I will help you if I’m already here.”

Your heart explodes and you bounce on your feet, feeling a sudden need to hug your upperclassman. You fight it off, though, painfully aware that he is not Atsumu or Osamu. He is not yet used to your fits of clinginess and embracing an acquaintance is not something encouraged in your country. Instead of that, you beam at him even more, feeling stars in your eyes. 

The laundry is left to dry behind the gym, so this is where he starts to lead you. You follow after him, glad that the distance is short. It is pain in the ass to drag your body and basket there, but with Shinsuke, it is easier and healthier to your back. 

“Were not first years supposed to help you carry heavy things? Where are they?” he asks as you walk, his eyes darkening. You fidget awkwardly and so, he adds, “Don’t cover for them, [Name]. They are not worth the effort if they don’t even try.” 

You giggle as you sway your sleeve and wrinkle your nose. Your issues with the ball boys are complicated, you suppose. Things changed quickly in the world and since yesterday, the relationship between you and the volleyball team has reshaped in a way you did not expect it to. 

Who would think letting your inner arsonist can have consequences? At least they are not your fans. You nearly shiver, thinking about the fainted boy. _Fans_ are a scary thing. You have no idea how to deal with people looking at you with admiration and lust. 

Fear, though? Fear you can deal with. You confess lightly, skipping ahead of him, “They are too scared of me. I’m not even half their height and they are terrified. That’s really, really funny, admit it, Shinsuke.” 

Being revered is really stupid. People are scared of you, you can deal with them. Probably. They are definitely better than your fans, but they still make you a tad uncomfortable. Ordinary, you are the one who is scared of others, being a nervous mess that doesn’t even reach their shoulders.

Shinsuke frowns. Wow. He _frowns,_ all for your sake. Or it can be out of pure revulsion he feels for his peers. You totally can understand why he would be disgusted by them, but you would like to think he does it for you because he likes you and wants to befriend you as much as you do. So, you will stand by your first theory.

“That is not an excuse,” he tells you, his eyes cold and ruthless. There is a storm, a blizzard glistening in them and waiting to be released, all for your sake. That’s so _endearing_ , “I will be sure to talk with them. I’m sorry, [N-Name].” 

Your lips curl in a smile, as you avoid his gaze, feeling yourself reddening, just a little. That’s something so nice to hear. It makes you so, so warm in this cold, April evening. He does care about you, a little bit. Maybe he is already thinking about you as his friend. 

“Don’t mind, don’t mind,” you wave his concerns off, not wanting to actually trouble him with something so trivial, “Machiavelli said it’s better to be feared than loved anyway.”

_(It’s better to be feared than loved, but what happens when fear goes away?)_

You used to think that his method of thinking was bullshit, but now, you change your mind. Everything is better than _those fans_. Old Niccolo knew his shit, you are never going to think badly about him again. You wrinkle your nose. You need to reread _The Prince_ as soon as you can. The old prick can help you with this shit. Probably, maybe, perhaps, you hope. 

“You are not a future ruler,” he points out simply, and you smile, awkwardly, because you actually are. Nobody just knows just yet. He continues, when you use your right to remains silent, his cold voice sounding worried, “Why should you care for somebody’s fear?”

“It’s okay, okay, don’t worry about that, seriously,” you hum, happy at the way his name rolls out of your mouth. It feels natural, it feels good, but he continues to look concerned, so you hastily put your hands in the air, “I’m fine, see? Not caring about stupid people.” 

“I will talk with them,” he repeats his words, this time promising you even as he ignores your pleas, “Their behavior is unacceptable, [Name]. You are the member of our team, our manager.” 

“If you want to,” you bob your head as you surrender to his indomitable will, “You can tell them _the scary Vixen_ sent you to do her bidding.”

 _Who would have thought?_ Your legend rises, as you are no longer _the strange girl twins dragged in kicking and screaming and cursing_. The _Vixen_. The nickname, you have to admit, is a little bit lame. You could have gotten a better one. Like, Lord of Darkness and Evil! Or something super crazy, like Inari herself. The first person to call you Vixen was TsuTsu, Sara told you, and they got it from him. So. It’s all his fault, again. It was in jest, of course, or was it? You can never know. He was not planning to have the whole school christen you with. Yes. No. Maybe.

Who are you kidding? This is probably some sort of his great plan. 

Well, it could be much worse. At least it makes a little bit of sense, you suppose, as _Inari Ōkami_ is the god of foxes (also of fertility, tea, rice, and _sake_ . How scandalous, you should be happy they didn’t go with calling you after alcohol) according to your best friend, Google. It’s a little bit better than being _twins’ weird friend_ , you think. Ow. Just look at you. You are a tiny girl, and yet that tall-ass, strong people are afraid of you.

Maybe your world-conquering plans are much more probable than you thought. 

It’s still better than adoration. The sheer fanaticism some people displayed when you cursed will haunt your dreams. Alas, at least you arrive at your destination, making you abandon your thoughts as you have to do your stupid, manager work. You groan. 

“You didn’t. You specifically told me you didn’t want me to,” Shinsuke shakes his head and sets down the basket, probably not knowing that you groaned at something different than your stupid teammates, “I will not let them _disrespect_ you.”

He sounds so _cool_. For a moment, you just look at him. You see his serious eyes and his sharp expression. You can’t help but think what a wonderful person he is. He is so nice, kind, and so, so reliable. You feel sparkles twinkling in your stomach and you beam at him, wanting to show how happy he makes you.

“Thank you, Shinsuke,” you express your honest gratitude, bowing a little, before taking several of the clothes in your hands, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh,” he sounds flustered for the moment, so you quickly turn around in his direction. Did something happen? Did you say something wrong? You can’t see his face, though, and are met with his back, “I talked with Kurosu--sensei about your social media’s idea.”

Well, he sounds normal now! Thank goodness. Maybe you were imagining things after all? Damn you, your overacting personality. Shrugging, you go back to your job, not wanting to let him do everything by himself. You are lazy, but not that lazy.

“What was his answer?”

Your social media’s idea, huh? He means that random line about wanting to upload Osamu’s serve online. You regret saying it now, knowing very well that being pretty much the PR manager of the High School’s team is going to stupidly difficult. You are awful at human interaction, Cthulhu, you will be atrocious at this.

 _But,_ you think with fondness, _Shinsuke told me it’s fine if I'm not good at things, as long as I have fun._

“He asked the headmaster for permission.”

Nothing is fucking fine. 

“Excuse m-moi?” you stutter out in surprise, dropping the material from your hands as the reality hits you again and again, “He asked the Headmaster-Headmaster of Inarizaki High?! Oh my god, I’m dead. I’m going to faint, and then I’m going to fucking drop dead, the mafia is after me, the Headmaster-”

The Headmaster. The same one who gifted a fucking stadium to the volleyball team, the head honcho, one said to be the most powerful person in this entire country- 

You drop into a crouch, hiding your face in your knees. This is not what you wanted. This is not what you wanted at all. You were supposed to get the coach’s permission, not to trouble the headmaster of this rich-ass school! Yakuza is now after you, are they not?! Cthulhu, you live in Amagasaki, just next to the sea. Your remains are totally going to be eaten by sharks, and your body will never be found by anybody _ever_.

Maybe you can look for Leonardo Di Caprio at the bottom of the - wait, wrong ocean, fuckity fuck. Not handsome men left on the bottom of the water to comfort you, damn it. What are you supposed to do?! Should you write your last will? You totally should. 

Okay, all of your shoes are going to Kizuchi, you hope she has the same size as you. Osamu should get all of your games, and Atsumu your books, maybe he will finally start studying this way. Your clothes should go to charity and you hope your brother is gifted with your stinky socks. 

“[Name],” you feel Shinsuke’s hand on your gently. He is delicately, nearly shyly touching your head, trying to pat it in comfort, “The headmaster wasn’t angry at you. He was overjoyed with your idea.”

“Are you sure?” you lift your head and you meet his soft gaze, “I – I didn’t cause trouble for you? I-I’m not going to die?”

“Of course not,” he bends down, crouching next to you. His lips turn up, just a little, his expression changing into something surprisingly gentle, “I – _We_ are not going to let you die, [Name].”

You bite your lower lip, chewing it a little as you look at him, trying to get a good read-in at his expression. He is as calm, as composed as ever, so it doesn’t tell you a lot even as he promises you. Promises, you know, are important even if you don’t swear them on the moon or your life. 

Your chest burns as you go through his words once more. He can’t break it, he simply _can’t_ break a promise. Your cheeks are covered by pink dust as you hesitantly lift your head. Should you believe him, even without pinky promise? 

“You are not lying to me to make me feel better, right?” you ask as you fidget nervously with your fingers, "It's not some convoluted plot to kill me, right? I-I didn't fuck everything up? Everything is fine? Nobody is going to make me sleep with fishies?"

“I don’t lie, [Name],” he tells you seriously, his brown eyes shimmering with sincerity as he promises you slowly, offering you his palm, "Everything is going to be fine, you are not in trouble, manager.” 

People lie. They lie all the time, their pants scorching with flames every time you look at them. You lie too, as much as you don’t like to. Everybody lies, that’s just how life is. So why exactly do you believe him with all of your heart? 

You don’t know him for long. Kita Shinsuke is kind and nice, and reliable, but he still unknown, but you have already placed your trust in him. He feels like a true dad or rather a robo-dad, and it’s strange, having a father - or older brother - figure in your life. Your old was never truly a dad to you, after all. 

Maybe this is why you take his hand without any hesitation.

* * *

The ball slams into the floor with thunderous noise. You would definitely die if you were standing there. Well, thanks fuck you were not. A light smile tugs at your lips and you clap your hands, enjoying this training way too much. 

You stifle out the happy giggle, cheering your friends with a bubble of happiness growing in your chest, “Nice murder, Osa-chan! Nice assist, Tsu-chan!”

That’s strange to think about, how happy you are only by watching people play volleyball. Sports are so not your thing, and yet, there you are, having time of your life. Osamu waves in your direction while Atsumu sends you a kiss, provoking the giggle to escape from your parted lips. 

They look so happy. How are you supposed to hate all of it, when they are both vibrating with mirth? All this laundry was worth it - just for this one blissful, dream-like moment, the one you don’t deserve in the slightest. If not for you, they would always be like that, you know. If not for you, their future would be so much brighter.

You bite your cheek, your chest falling down. 

“For the sixth time, it’s a _nice kill_ and _nice toss_ , Date,” Kurosu sighs profoundly, rolling his eyes as he observes the practice, “I don’t even want to know what is happening on the court according to you. Seriously, don’t tell me a thing. I don’t need more nightmares at night.” 

You are quite thankful to him for bringing you back to reality. A small hum leaves your mouth and you cross your legs, placing your hands atop of your knees. 

How common is it to congratulate somebody on the way they murdered another person? Not common at all, you know that very well and so, you are going to use this opportunity as long as you can. 

“Whatever you say, Kurosu-sensei,” you smile at him innocently, pretending to be a perfect angel both of you know that you are not, “Killing, murder, assassination, what the difference anyway? In the end, there is a dead body and mystery to be solved, murderer to be apprehended.” 

Your voice - or maybe your words - causes freshmen behind you to shiver a bit and whimper pathetically. You swing your body, failing at pretending you don’t enjoy this sort of attention at all. You have no idea what Shinsuke told them, but somehow, that made them fear you even more. 

It is still hard to wrap your head around the fact that they are scared of _you_. Okay, you know you can be a scary person, but you were never so intimidating people preferred twins’ company over yours. It is quite a freeing experience, having people fear you. 

They are goddamn right to be scared of you. 

“I remember times when I thought you were polite. You looked so nice,” he groans into his palm, “Those were very good times, of course, they would be gone. What did I think? You are a friend of Miyas. Well, back to only having Kita to lean on I go.”

“He is really reliable, is he not?” you question, glancing toward the boy who seems to be in the middle of scolding your friends, “I never saw Osa-chan or Atsu-chan listen to somebody who is not their mother.” 

“Sometimes I think the only reason that school is still standing is Kita,” Kurosu nods, writing something in his notebook, “The headmaster is so useless it’s not even a joke. He just keeps spinning on his chair and moaning about how he wants to see volleyball practice - Oh, yeah, he said yes to your Twittie account or whatever you kids call it.”

You flutter your eyes, confused about the sudden topic change.

“He did?” you repeat, clasping your knees a bit, “Does it mean-” 

“He will send you the password and login in the mail,” he continues nonchalantly, “He was saying something about the account verified or whatever - not important. The thing is, we need a group photo for that. You okay with this?” 

“O-Of course!” you hastily answer, not thinking much about what you are saying, too much focused about that part of his words that tell you are not a total failure of a person and you are going to start operating Inarizaki High School Volleyball Team’s official Twitter account. 

Group photo or what, who cares. 

“Let her have fun, Norimune-san,” coach Oomi smiles, his black eyes glimmering, “She deals with Miya twins every day and somehow is still being able to retain joy.” 

“A-Are you okay, Oomi-sensei?” you ask him hesitantly, not sure what to make of him. He is a very, very mysterious character, you suppose. Too mysterious, probably. He seems happy and polite most of the time but then comments in a way that is surely making Rintarou proud. 

“No,” he answers so cheerfully, way too cheerfully. You feel a shiver going through your spine as he speaks out, “Don't be lazy, Suna! We see you!”

Suna shows the whole world his disgusted face, before going for the next spike. You wave at him happily, from your not – so – comfortable at the bench. Yes, they suck, but at least you are sitting and doing fuck all as most of your responsibilities were already done.

You dangle your legs in quiet as you film his next spike. It's a pretty powerful one, but it seems most of the team is made of secret government weapons, not actual people. Seriously. How the hell is this sport legal?

You have something good going for you at the very least, in your strange managerial life. You are now pretty sure you are on the road to befriend Rintarou Suna. If a person gives you food, it means they want to friend you, right? He gave you those promised muffins just before practice began, comforting you in some strange way. 

You feel obligated to add they were not as good as Osamu’s, but they were definitely from some sort of bakery, not those cheap convenience store’s ones you buy in desperate times. 

You thanked him profoundly and he said _it’s not such a big deal_. As a person pretty new to interactions with normal human beings, you deemed it as the beautiful start of the friendship and proceeded to annoy him from the moment you returned to the gym.

“She looks scary when she’s happy.”

“She looks scary when she’s not.”

“She’s always scary.”

They are going for it. Your new title, just like Sara told you. The whole school was buzzing with it, so of course, your terrified teammates adopted it as well. You roll your eyes at their dramatics. 

“The Vixen,” the freshman whisper, not knowing you hear their every word, “She’s plotting to murder someone right now, I’m telling you! Maybe one of us - you can never say with her, oh God, she is about to kill all of us.” 

You turn your head, slowly, deliberately. Now, a sweet, perfect smile. They _scream_ and you fight back the squeal of happiness. Gods, this is so much _fun_. Why has nobody told you being delinquent is so satisfying? 

Kurosu just sighs again as you chuckle evilly into your hand. He scolds you with a harsh tone, “Don’t bully first years, Date. There is still some sort of hope for them.” 

“I'm in my first year too, you know, sensei,” you answer him earnestly, uncrossing your legs, a little bit uncomfortable in this position now, “Does it mean there is still hope for me too? That’s super sweet of you to say!” 

“There is not. Mentally, you are at the same level as twins,” he retorts, rolling eyes inwards. A smile creeps at your face, the one much more genuine. You are going to take it as a compliment, even though you are pretty sure it’s not one. As if to completely approve of your theory, Osamu tosses the ball straight into Atsumu’s face. 

You laugh. 

“Nice, nice, nice!” you shout to the younger twin who flashes you the peace sign before he starts the fight with his brother.

The argument starts, but the practice continues for the time being, balls going around the gym. You observe a bit, and then you go to refill the bottles or bring clean towels. Yeah, it was much more fun when you were only watching - but the world is not so easy, and neither is being a manager. 

Sam continues to try fluffy serves, becoming better with every served, even as Atsumu derides him. You may or may not throw some balls at him for that, but there’s no evidence, no matter how much the blond complains. 

Slowly, but surely, thanks fuck, time passes and practice finally comes to the end. The team assembles before coaches as you exhaustedly lay on the bench, admiring the ceiling. 

“I believe you have heard it from Kita before, but just to be sure, because I don’t trust you,” Kurosu begins slowly, ignoring your position, “Our team will have official social media account on one of those silly sites you teenagers like,” you wrinkle your nose at those words. Kurosu can be such a boomer, “So I will have the team to change into official match clothes to take a photo.”

You don’t expect those words to be taken very enthusiastically, but as you pick yourself up, you notice a few sparkling eyes. Somebody even whispers a hushed _we are going to be famous, mom_. Though, Rintarou groans loudly, his hands in his shorts as he looks very much dead. 

“So, troublemakers, Kita,” coach Kurosu nods his hand, skipping a page in his notebook, “This is not the only surprise our dear headmaster has for us.” 

“Our sugar daddy,” Rintarou says dryly, “I don’t remember agreeing to such contract, coach.” 

“That’s not Fifty Shades of Grey, Sunarin,” Osamu retorts, elbowing the noirette, “You have to stop watching those stupid smutty films.” 

Kurosu sends them a glare and both of them shrug, but become quiet. You play with your fingers, not expecting the news to be something very much interesting, but listening with one ear nonetheless. Your older coach clears his mouth and waits a moment as the boys of the team shut up before he continues in a serious tone, “The second thing. I was able to schedule a practice match.”

You tilt your head, remembering that you and the twins were the reason the practice matches were canceled while the team screams out in excitement. You notice even Atsu going ape-shit in the corner, eyes twinkling as if he was a child. 

“How?!” somebody screams out and you glance toward the source of noise only to see Gintama, “Everybody hates you! How did you do that, sensei?”

“Who cares, Hitoshi!” one of the boys you don’t know pats his back with a smile, “We’re going to play against somebody at least! Those poor people.”

“You used black magic, didn’t you, sensei?” Rintarou yawns loudly, “That’s fucked up and immoral. Somebody is proud of you for that. I don’t who, though, maybe British? Don’t they like occult?” 

“I can finally destroy people,” Atsumu smiles with hubris, putting one of his hands on his chin while the other goes to his hip, “Don’t you hold me back, scrubs.” 

Even from your position, you can notice Osamu rolling his eyes, “Wow, you are such a terrible person, Tsumu.”

“What did you say?!”

You laugh, standing from the bench and quickly dashing toward them, embracing Atsumu’s back. That, more than anything, stops him from lashing out. He looks back at you and you smile at him. You didn’t know that those matches can make them so happy, but if they are, then you are getting your huggie. 

“Hey, you unruly teenagers and Kita!” Kurosu’s voice seems to drown in the wave of excitement. He waves his hand, wanting to bring attention back to himself, “Hey, stop these demonic mating rituals right now! I still have something to say!” 

“Everybody,” Shinsuke’s voice cuts across the room, commanding the room with his presence alone. Suddenly, you feel very much cold and so, you bring yourself even closer to Atsumu, “Please refrain from talking. Coach Kurosu still didn’t finish talking.”

You giggle into Atsu’s shirt as the silence reigns over the room. Shinsuke is the only adult in this team, is he not? You lift your head and glance from behind your friend to see his eyes freezing all of the team. That’s so cool, pun intended. 

“Thank you, Kita,” Kurosu exhales deeply, his palm still touching his forehead, “So, if all of that is over, let me say that those matches will not happen in Hyogo. Our dear headmaster agreed to Atsumu’s idea when I brought it as the joke. Never joke with this man.” 

“Oh no,” goes Suna in the most devoid of emotions tone, “We’re all dead.”

You quite agree. You drop your hands from Atsumu and take a step backward, spying with the corner of your eye that Tsu’s cheeks are very much pink. You blink. He really didn’t expect the Headmaster to do that, it seems. 

“He’s gone insane,” Osamu nods as he yawns. He offers you his hand and you take it instantly, “Only insane people agree to Tsumu’s ideas.”

“He always was insane,“ Ojiro shakes his head, “He was the one who wanted a stadium next to our gym, after all. I appreciate the thought, but the stadium. Who needs the stadium next to the school? How strange is it?”

There is it! Your culprit! Your reason! Cthulhu, the mystery is solved, and you thought that you will never find out the true meaning of that place. Donation your ass!

“He’s gone even more insane, then,” Osamu decides, interlacing your fingers, “We should alert certain authorities. Police, maybe. The special forces, definitely.” 

“Hey, all of you!” Atsumu shouts out in the answer, shaking his arms furiously, “Why are you acting as all of my ideas are stupid?”

“Because they are, duh,” you retort, stinking your tongue out of your mouth, “Like that one time you wanted to pet a tiger at the zoo.”

“We decided to not speak about this,” he points up maliciously, eyes glowering, “Just like about that time you locked yourself in the IKEA.”

Okay, you deserved it. You sigh and put your free hand in the air, waving it at him. He takes it in his palm hesitantly, treating you as if you are made from glass. You are not, thank you very much, so you squeeze with all of your strength. 

Kurosu clears his throat, impatiently, “Ignoring these idiots – “

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!”

“You totally are, AtsuAtsu."

"You know he's calling you an idiot as well, right, [Name]-chan?"

"Yeah, I just don't care."

You really don’t. 

“Ignoring them,” Kurosu sighs, shaking his head with disappointment, “We are still contacting different schools, but so far Itachiyama, Shirotarizawa, and Fukurodani agreed to have matches with us.”

You wrinkle your nose. You know Itachiyama, of course, you do, who doesn’t? One of the most elite schools in the country, the one your brother used to attend all those years ago. _Fukurodani_ and _Shiratorizawa_ , though, are a complete mystery to you. 

You notice Atsumu freezing, though you have no idea why. You take his hand, but he doesn’t answer, making you look back to Osamu. He just shakes his head, making it clear it is not important. You nod to yourself, trusting him. You hum, looking back at the coach. He looks to be proud of himself. 

“Shiratorizawa is in Tohoku, right?” Ojiro asks, his eyebrows furrowed, “I understand we would want to play with Ushijima, but Tohoku is on the other side of Japan.”

Approximately, about twelve hours away. You never went to the Tohoku region, so you don’t exactly understand why your coach decided to talk with the school so far away. Are they super good or something? You squeeze the hands of your friends and they squeeze yours right back. You don't fight back the grin on your face.

“Fukurodani and Itachiyama are in both in Kantō, Tokyo,” Omimimi, normally silent and ominous, informs you all, “What about our lessons, coach? We can’t skip so much of them at the beginning of the year.” 

Yes, you can. You are a student of Inarizaki High and slowly you begin to understand what it means: _Standard and normal mean nothing here._

“The staff agreed to it as long as your grades don’t fall,” your coach says slowly, eyes focusing on Atsumu and Osamu, “Understand, demons?” 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Atsumu smiles, pressing your palm as he lies. You roll your eyes, exasperation, and love mixed in your chest, “You should say that to our dear underclassmen, right?” 

“Whatever,” Kurosu answers, “We plan to take off next Sunday. Talk with your guardians, have them write permission, and be ready for a lot of work. It will not be a normal trip,” he tells you ominously, "It will be a _learning trip_.”

“And now,” coach Oomi destroys all tension, smiling cheerfully, “Go change into your uniforms so we can take a photo!”

You would facepalm, but it’s hard to do when you are holding hands with people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much trouble writing this chapter, lol. Rewrote it several times, before being happy with the results. Calmer one, but with some tender moments between MC and boys, so I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> So, here we go, everybody. We're going to Tokyo and Miyagi, even though it's about 7-8 hours away and even though the year just began. All of my Inarizaki is weird led to this. Who do you think we will play against? Are you excited? Finally, some plot shows up!
> 
> History time! Sengoku Jidai, or the Warring States Era is one of my favorites in Japanese history, next only to Restauration Meiji. Why? Otome games. Masamune Date (One-Eyed Dragon) in Samurai Ballad Story is my absolute favorite (the real one is pretty sleazy by today’s standards, so hard pass). Our Reader-chan got her last name from him. The best part? He founded Sendai, the capital city of Miyagi, the place where Shiratorizawa is located. 
> 
> This chapter was edited on 21.02.2021.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Have a nice day!


	10. Interlude: Fangirling is Very Serious Business II.

**Warnings! Obsessive love and mentions of bullying.**

There was a pink love letter in Date’s locker on Thursday. 

It looked so out of place among the white of the school. 

It was wrong. It was scary. 

Some girls are rational. Sara is not.

She didn’t feel an ounce of shame as she pulled it out, taking the feelings of stranger away, destroying hopes and dreams. 

She doesn’t think of herself as a cruel person. Sara’s passion is amber gold. Her feelings are yellow, full of kinship, and understanding, and well-hidden jealousy she will never show to the world. She doesn’t want a lot of things. She just wants people she loves to be happy. If she has to rip other people's hearts out to do so, she will. 

The letter in her hands doesn’t feel heavy. Not when she thinks about [Name]. Not when she thinks about Osamu’s amber-like eyes. 

Sara Kizuchi is the official fangirl, president of Miya Osamu’s Fanclub, the elected leader of the Volleyball Team's Committee for two years in a row. She holds the trust of her peers to protect, to be better, to give example. 

She is not a liar. She is not cruel. 

She cares in her own, yellow way. 

This is why she found herself approaching Date [Name] the day after the first Committee meeting took place. This is why she ends up enjoying the girl’s company. This is why – this is why she is not going to ignore the bad feeling. This is why she waits until lessons end and slams her palms against Akagi’s table.

The look in Akagi’s eyes haunted her. 

Her crush on Akagi is not important. Not more than the safety of others. Not more than the happiness of people Osamu loves. It’s always about Osamu for her. It’s always about others’ for her. 

If she has power, shouldn’t she use it? 

Even if her naive crush, the possibility never grasped, has to be price. 

“Member Akagi,” she whispers with a threatening edge to her voice, “We need to talk.”

He pales, as he understands her words. The Committee is professional. It’s serious. It’s not a whim of rich, bored people. They have rules, and if people break those rules - 

They don’t really call each other _members_ outside of meetings. That's a strict rule, the one that helps maintain the club’s existence in secret. What would a volleyball team say if they even found out about them? Would they understand? Would they hate them? 

Their feelings about the volleyball team are red. Passion and love, desperation, and fear. So sharp, so cutting. They can’t help the conspiracy around the Committee. They are afraid. They can’t stop cheering at them. They are in love. 

_Love them, but be careful,_ is the first thing every member learns.

Approaching Minato Akagi’s desk is not calculated, cold move on her part. Sara is not that kind of person. She doesn't plan, she just _does_ , never in the shadows, always near the sun. 

“President Kizuchi, is something wrong?” he smiles at her in a friendly manner, trying to manipulate her, He knows that she finds him attractive and he thinks he can play her. What a fool.

“I want to know the meaning of this,” she places the love letter before him, “I know you were the one to write it.”

He gulps audibly, but his awful smirk doesn’t disappear. He is so cocky. He is so, so cocky. He stands up, ignoring the clear evidence before him, and starts pacing across the empty classroom. Sara slides back next to the wall, crossing her arms around her chest. 

He stops after the moment, just next to the windows.

( _She's so stupid, he thinks, so naive. Well, let's play if you want. Minato looks out of the window and his heart stops._

_She's here. Not alone, of course. She's never alone. The captain of the volleyball team is with her, talking, smiling, breathing - How much Minato would do, how much would he sacrifice to be in his place?)_

“You knew it would happen from the start, Kizuchi – san,” he sighs, “Miya Atsumu – san and Osamu – san were always the Wild Ones.”

Misdirection? Sara fights back the scowls as he calls her _Kizuchi – san_ , intentionally forgoing her title in a fit of confidence. What an abrasive man. How could she even think fondly of him?

“Why does it sound like they are some kind of animal?” she plays his game, “What are you talking about? We’re here to talk about the love letter, member Akagi."

He shrugs, his eyes still piercing the view to the windows. What is he looking at?

( _She smiles and the whole world stops. She's so beautiful. And yet, not next to him. How much would he love to destroy, crush, decimate - )_

“Would you confess?”

Sara opens her mouth, surprised. _Confess_? What does it have to do with his love letter?

She suddenly has a bad feeling. She moves, faster than she should, just as fast like on the court, when she tries to connect to the ball. And she finally sees what he’s looking at.

Her heart stops. 

_Oh, Date - san_ , she thinks mortified, _I'm so sorry._

There’s hunger in his eyes. Physical violence is not the answer, she knows, but. But she wishes she could slap this awful expression out of his face.

“Confess? Confess to what?”

Minato _sighs_. He is probably thinking she is stupid, but Sara knows how to play this game. It’s like volleyball, in some strange sense. Serve. Receive. Spike. She knows the rules and is good at this. The long rally has begun and she will win, no matter what.

“Confess that you are in love with Osamu – san, of course.”

_(How cute Sara Kizuchi is._

_Not.)_

Sara is not fazed, dealing with such inquiries time and again. But not like that. She comforted crying girls, talking about how much they adore Osamu, she held hands with boys coming to learn their own sexuality, not knowing how to feel about being attracted to other boys.

“I’m not in love with Osamu – san, member Akagi. My adoration for him is strictly based on his achievements in volleyball.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sara.”

_(Minato exhales, feeling nerves sway around his stomach. His eyes find the silhouette of the girl again. She brings him salvation._

_The curse on his tongue sounds like rebellion._

_The girl in the corridor, he thinks, Wild and free. Curses flying for her mouth, one after another, without any shame or hesitation. Her threats, her insults, her rage. Dangerous. Savage. Barbaric. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Breathtaking. If Miya twins weren’t there, I would fall on my knees before her and beg for attention, for one scathing gaze, for any contact with her skin, be it to a slap, a kick, or a punch. Anything she would give me, I will worship. But._

_I can’t even look at her._

_Club. This club._

_And Miya twins.  
_

_How unfair.)_

“I’m not one of your minions," he hisses at her. But Sara doesn't break. She never does.

_(And then, the message, Michinari talking about the new manager. Not fair. Why is he the one who can look at her, hear her speak every day? There is no way Minato can do the same.)_

“If you loved skilled players, you would be president of Ojiro Aran’s fan club, who is a much better player," he accuses as if he knows anything at all, "And yet you joined the Committee only a year ago for Miya – Osamu. It existed before, you know.”

He thinks she is just like him, but he is wrong. She looks at his love letter. It’s pink, just like him, just like his love. So naive. So obsessive. So much focused on himself. She loves, loves so much it hurts, loves so much she thinks she is dying, loves so much she can’t breathe. 

Sara Kizuchi is yellow. 

There is one thing that hurts more than her stupid love. He will never understand it. She sighs, tired, and steps away from him. Without looking at him anymore, she takes a love letter in her hands.

Akagi Minato is pink. 

“My reasons are not for you to understand, _Akagi – san_.”

“Then why did you approach Date – san?”

_(Why, why, why her? He wanted to be the one, the one to talk with her, the one to hold her back, the one to have lunches with her, the one she trusts, the one she - )_

“Are you asking as a member of the Committee?” she shots back, “Or as a person?”

“As both, of course,” he smiles at her, “I’m worried you don’t understand the rules of the Committee, President.”

_(Sara Kizuchi may like to think she is complicated, but she is not. He knows that she fancies him, not as much as she fancies Osamu Miya, but she still does. He can use it, and yet –_

_She doesn’t break as he tries to tempt her, as he tries to seduce her._

_She meets his gaze with the steel of conviction.)_

Does he think she falls under his stare? She will not. Sara is not a stupid teenager in love. Sara is not a fangirl who only cares about herself. She is President of the Committee, and so, she is the last to break the rules.

“I would not,” she answers, “I wouldn’t confess. Not now. Not ever.”

That's the thing that Sara knew from the very start. As her senior whispered about Club in her ear, as she attended a meeting for the first time, as she got into the Fan Club division.

“Huh,” he shifts his weight, a bit surprised, “Why?”

She laughs as he finally turns over.

“Because this is not why the Committee is for. We are here to support players and all I ever wanted is to support Osamu – san, member Akagi.”

_(Oh. Oh._

_He made her angry._

_Minato grimaces. That was not his intention.)_

“This is the sole reason I approached Date – san. I know he would be worried if she didn’t have any friends,” she tells him, “He doesn’t trust me, I know. But that’s okay, I’m going to take care of Date – san in class for him.”

_(He – he miscalculated. He didn’t think her affection was so strong._

_He wanted to – to break her. Change her. Make her – the rules – unfair, unfair, unfair.)_

“So, if you are afraid I will do anything to hurt her, rest assured, member Akagi.”

_(Of course, she will not, he will not let her – he will, Date, no, [Name]. [Name], prettier than morning’s sunshine. So graceful. Full of anger, of life, of rebellion, of revolution – She is fire. Burning under his skin, yearning for things he cannot even imagine.)_

Sara Kizuchi stands up for her place and walks out to the door. She takes a breath, confident, and free, the president she was born to be. She waves his love letter.

“I’m President of the Committee because I know the rules. I understand them. We don’t hurt people. We don’t annoy them. We look for the distance. You know this as well, don’t you?”

“W – what – “

“If I see you looking at Date – san in such a manner again I _will_ report you to the Heckling Forces and Domestic Affairs Office, member Akagi.”

She doesn’t even turn back, too disgusted.

“Remember. We have your back. _Always_.”

She smiles before leaving.

_(Minato falls on his knees._

_Defeat. He lost before he even got his chance before his hands reached to [Name] before she gave him one smile before any curse left her mouth. He lost, lost, lost, lost - )_

"Your fault," her seniors whispered years ago, "Get better, Kizuchi!"

She thought she knew. It’s all her fault. They lost because Sara was not good enough. Not fast enough. Not strong enough. She was just not enough –

 _"_ Her last spike was so cool," came the voice. Sara raised her head. And never let it fall again.

He will never know how much his idle comment meant. And that’s okay. Sara is a member of the Volleyball Team Committee. She looks but never approaches. She protects but never talks. She adores but never asks for anything in return.

That’s how it’s supposed to be.

* * *

Sara: Akagi is kinda cute, not gonna lie

Me: >make Akagi massive asshole<

Sara: No, take this back.

Inarizaki’s Committee confirmed Illuminati? It’s short, not even 2k words, I know, and a little confusing with two intervening POVs. I thought it was a cool idea, tho.

Minato Akagi is the boy who was first to propose Reader's Fanclub. He is Michinari's cousin!

So, Committee’s II interludes. Most of the members are really mature about their crushes, lol, because the Fan Club demands it of players. Akagi may be interested in Reader/believing he is in love with her, but he can’t confess or even approach her because the rest of the members are always watching each other. Guarding their celebrities. It’s the last we see him – _OR DO WE?!_

My sole goal for creating Committee was to avoid _fangirls bullying reader_ thing.

Hope it makes you feel better about Sara :)


	11. In which you should never trust somebody named Miya (you are pretty sure the evil hides in their blood).

“Date-san?” you raise your head in surprise, not expecting Ojiro to call your name. You blink at him in silent question and he clears his throat, his eyes directed towards Shinsuke of all people, “Are you not going to join us in the photo?” 

Your team captain moves in a strange, erratic manner. You fidget awkwardly, tapping your fingers against your arm. You don’t exactly feel it would be right to stand next to them. The members of Inarizaki’s volleyball are the stars, people who got in through recommendations and scholarships.

You, in contrast, are literally a janitor. Not to say how camera-shy you are - okay, you are not camera-shy, you just always end up looking like a potato on every photo and while you are okay with private selfies, this photo is going to the internet. 

You shot a quick glance towards Osamu and Atsumu. The twins, showing once again that they only are truly united under a common enemy, share gazes before shaking their heads and whipping their heads in your direction. 

“C’mere here, sunshine,” Atsumu demands, gesturing towards his arms, “Stop making this face, [Name]-chan. I hate seeing you like that, even if you still look cute.” 

“Simp,” Rin murmurs under his breath. Or rather, pretends to murmur under his breath, because every one of you can hear him. Atsumu glares death at the noirette, but Suna ignores that. 

“Bullshit,” Osamu is first to disagree as his dark stare goes around the crowd, looking for some sort of unlucky victim. You pop your lips awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to another. How are you supposed to even answer that? “You are more important than any of those losers, counting in Tsumu.” 

Yeah, you are pretty sure that’s his bias towards you showing. Still, that’s sweet of him and you shot him a sheepish smile. 

“You’re our manager, sunshine,” Atsumu follows smoothly, "Join us already?” 

Are you their manager? Once more, you are more their janitor than anything else. How the fuck even managerial duties work? You fidget nervously with your fingers and wrinkle your nose, “I’m not part of the team, aren’t I? I really shouldn't stand next to you.” 

You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t, but you did and it’s too late now. Your tiny gesture, the subtle changes on your faces, all of it sparks anger in their amber-like eyes and you really shouldn’t want to get the Miya twins angry. They instantly break the formation of the photo, stepping ahead of the team, straight towards you.

Okay, so you probably should run. Only, last time that didn’t help you much. They are much faster and stronger than you, not to even mention the number advantage. You groan as they move toward you. Atsu arrives first, cradling your face in his hands. 

“Who told you that, sunny?” his eyes shimmer with the dangerous light you really don’t like. He is not threatening you, but you don’t want to be complicit in this particular murder. You avert your gaze, a pout forming on your lips, only to be stopped by Osamu.

The younger twin takes hold of both of your hands. He presses his palms against yours and you reluctantly shift your gaze to him. Your breath hitches at his serious, stormy expression, fury dancing in his eyes. This is really not good, because when Osa is mad, the heads keep rolling.

“Did somebody hurt you, [Name]?” his voice is very soft, very tender, but you know better than to trust it. You shake your head, denying that, but they don’t take your words at their face value, fuckers. 

They share a gaze and Atsumu steps backward, letting you go, while Osamu gently drops your hands. You stand awkwardly, very aware that your little circus is observed by the whole team. You don’t want to meet anyone’s eyes, so you look down, your right palm reaching to the hem of your sleeve and playing with it between your fingers. 

Atsumu is the first to open his mouth, but Osamu follows soon after, their rapid questioning making your head spin. You don’t have time to breathe down, not to say anything about replying to their inquires, but they don’t seem to care, throwing one question after another. 

“Are you afraid to tell us, sunshine?” 

"I can skin someone alive for you, [Name].”

“Did they threaten you? Did they hurt you?”

"I will beat Tsumu for you."

"Hey, what the heck! Why are you going after me, Samu? I would never do anything to hurt [Name]!"

"Oh, you wouldn’t? I don’t believe that, you trashiest of the trash. I still remember how you used to bully her when we were younger! All of it is probably your fault. Everything that happened is your fault. You are so lame.” 

"I- C’mere, you little brat, let the big bro teach you a lesson!”

You shake your head, slowly becoming very much irritated. Not at their antics, oh no, you are very much used to their stupidity. You are becoming annoyed at something very different, something much more important.

“Hey idiots!” you shout out, placing your palms on your waist, “I’m perfectly capable of making people regret messing with me on my own," you declare boldly, making them shut up for the moment as they look at you. 

They share a glance, before looking at you dubiously. Yeah, they are not trusting you. They never fucking do. So this is how they want to play? Okay, okay, okay, you can totally do this the hard way. 

To demonstrate your power, you throw your hair from your shoulder and gaze at the watching freshmen. You hear them gulping loudly and you smile at them sweetly. They scream on that cue without any delay, which in turn makes you cackle with glee. 

Are you an awful person? Totally. Do you regret it? No, never, nada. Their screams of horror are better than adoring fans in the school. Those, you shiver a little, stalkers who want you to curse at them for some deranged reason. Total strangers pretending to a _dore_ you. All of them want to-

Okay, so maybe, you don't know what they want. You just wish they would stay away. The way younger club members react is at least amusing. You cock your head at the twins and Osamu reaches to ruffle your hair with fondness, while Atsumu claps mockingly. 

"That's totally cool, sunshine," he adds with a shit-eating smile, his words layered with pride. Or at least, you think that’s pride, you can never know with him, "You are going to be raised to the status of the Queen in no time at all, Princess."

You grimace as you can't find anything to throw at his face near you. You look around, eyes resting on Kurosu who seems to be so tired of everything that maybe, just maybe, he would help you. You smile sweetly, "Permission to send Atsumu to the other planet, Kurosu-sense? I know you want to!"

“Date, please, that is my dream, don’t crush it like that,” Kurosu starts pathetically, waving his hand, “Get in, won’t you? I’m talking to all of your demons. What a headache. We don’t do simple in Inarizaki, do we? Everything is complicated in this team.”

Atsumu, being the absolute bastard, sticks his tongue at you. You answer with the same gesture, though you also pull your eyelid a bit. Osamu ruffles your hair one last time before pulling both you and his twin towards your place. 

You are probably going to look dreadful at this photo, but it’s not like you can help it now. You don’t have a brush or, well, anything to make sure you look like a human and not like you just climbed out of the trench. Well, fuck you sideways, because you reach your destination easily enough, without a nuclear attack waiting for you. 

“Now, now, Norimune-san, that’s not true at all,” Oomi sensei smiles, deciding you are not interesting at all. Maybe that's how he survives being Inarizaki's coach? Just ignoring everything? If so, you are a little bit jelly, “Death is simple and awaits us all.”

You decide to stand just next to Osamu and the silver-haired twin doesn’t mind that in the slightest, dipping down to rest his head on yours. 

“That’s a mood, sensei,” you hear a pathetic moan escaping Suna’s mouth and shot him a glance. You notice him looking more dead than the Carolingian dynasty, “Just standing, breathing, doing nothing, all of is such a pain, please kill me.” 

“Existence is pain, Suna. You need to get used to that already,” Oomi nods at him with a radiant smile. Should the teacher say shit like that? Probably not. Rintarou doesn’t look too affected, though, just lazily bobbing his head, so the younger of your coaches decides to shift his attention to the rest of you, “Is everybody ready?”

The answer to that question is simply _no_. The gods, in their stupidity, decided to bring Miya twins to the Earth, who cannot stay still for a second. It’s not like you can do so either, but at least you don’t argue over dumb things. Okay, you do argue about stupid things, but not as dull as them. 

“Hey, Samu,” Atsumu started innocently enough, smiling at his twin. Osamu shook his head in dismay and you can’t blame him for that, because his next words were so moronic several of your brain cells died as you heard them, “Why is [Name] standing next to you? I want her beside me in the photo.”

“Fuck off, Tsumu,” Sam answered him kindly, “She just doesn’t stand next to you. Are you forcing her? That’s so lame.” 

That’s all it took for them to be at each other throats. You would like to say you behaved like a mature person and tried to stop them, but that would be a lie. Instead, you just stood by, watching the spectacle and wishing for the popcorn.

At least, you did before you felt Kurosu’s gaze at you. 

_You are a manager. Do something with them,_ he seems to be saying. You feel sweat dripping from your forehead. He is a coach. He has more authority than you, doesn’t he? Do you really have to -? Okay, okay, he doesn’t have to glare at you like that! You will do this, Jesus fucking Christ, you will do that shit! 

“This is like the stupidest thing you ever fought over,” you inform them dutifully, “And I'm counting that time you argued about who is going to eat sand first.”

You told them they are stupid idiots back then, but seven-year-olds didn't listen to your wise words. To be honest, they listened to nobody's wise worlds. Who would think that cake made from sand tastes like sand? Not them before that day, that’s for sure. 

Huh, you swear someone chuckles at your words. Yes, you suppose little Miya twins eating sand is an amusing picture to imagine.

“Hey, that doesn't count, sunshine," Atsumu declares boldly, throwing you a glance from under his eyelashes, "We all know it was Samu's fault! Do you remember? _Oh, I'm so hungry, let's eat sand, Atsumu, it will be fun._ How did it taste, dear younger brother of mine?"

“I don't know, Tsumu," Osamu pretends to think, before facing his twin with an evil grin, "How did it taste?”

“Okay, so I did it first, big deal! That doesn't change the fact it was you who wanted to! I was just being a good older brother!"

"Older by five minutes."

"Still, five minutes without you!"

“Shouldn’t our manager stand near the captain, anyway?” Ojiro suddenly speaks up, his eyes glittering as he tries to rein all of you troublemakers in, “How about that, Date-san? You are okay with it, Osamu, Atsumu?” 

Well, you weren't expecting Ojiro to be the first one to try to stop their stupid argument, but you are not going to complain. You would think Shinsuke would be one to do something because he is so reliable and cool. 

You shift your attention to your team’s captain and find him, as always, standing all calm and collected, watching the unfolding argument without even blinking. In all of that word meanings, he is so _cool_. 

“I disagree,” Atsumu instantly says, very pointily not looking in Kita’s direction, “I don’t think it’s good-” 

“I agree because Tsumu disagreed.”

“You little!” 

You snicker evilly. Okay, you don’t need further invitations. Standing next to somebody else is not going to hurt you, anyway, right? You poke Atsumu’s cheek with your middle finger before cheerfully skittering straight to the captain. As you come closer, you smile at him brightly and notice Shinsuke looks to Ojiro’s encouraging face, then to you, and becomes a little bit pink, as if he is flustered. 

Your heart falls. What did you do? Does he hate you? Cthulhu, oh the Ancient one, please, anything but that. You want to be friends with him! You are kinda - just kinda, wishing for that, but he is already hating you. You stop near him, not really sure what to do, as he refuses to meet your gaze. 

Should you just insert yourself there? Nah, it seems somehow wrong. Disrespectful. Well then, fuck, you will use your words. It's gonna hurt because you are not the best at them, but for Shinsuke's friendship, you can try. 

“Is something w-wrong, S-Shinsuke?” you ask him fearfully, as you feel suddenly entirely too self-conscious, “D-Do you want me to go s-somewhere else? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to stand next to me, I mean, who would, I’m me after – “

“I don’t mind your presence, [Name],” he’s quick to assure you, his eyes falling at your face, “Anybody would be lucky to stand next to you. Don’t be hard on yourself, you have no reason to be.”

You feel a little bit warmer at his words and have to stop yourself from fidgeting on your legs. It would be really cool if you could hold Kita’s arm or something, but just standing close is totally fine! He doesn’t mind you, he said so himself! So, he practically confessed to wanting to be your friend, right? Right?!

“I’m going to call it as I see it,“ you hear Rin going for something, and as you raise your head, you see him looking at both you and his captain before he is rudely interrupted, “Sim-”

“Rintarou, not in front of Shinsuke," Ojiro warns, reaching to as he hit the back of Rintarou's neck. Suna groans, but gives up and you blink, confused at the exchange. What just happened? Do you want to know? 

“Sim? The Sims?” Atsumu cuts in the conversation without any prompt, just doing whatever he wants as he smiles mockingly at the noirette, “Do you want to play this game now, Rin-kun? Do you even know how?”

“How can somebody don’t know how to play fucking Sims?” Osamu yawns as he looks at the ceiling with a long-suffering gaze, “Not everybody is as stupid as you, you know, Tsumu. It took you what, three years to learn how to turn on the computer?” 

“What the heck, Samu! That’s a lie!” 

Kurosu sighs deeply, like a man who absolutely lost his faith in humanity, “Yes, yes, troublemakers. Just pretend for the minute you are somebody else, okay? We have to take this photo.”

The said troublemakers – the whole team, that is – tries very hard to not look like complete idiots as Kurosu shots a picture. You do your best not to smile awkwardly, but you probably end up being a total potato in the picture anyway.

It’s nice, though. Being in a photo, not being a potato, you mean. Feeling included. Not to be dramatic or anything like this, but you like this feeling of _belonging_ , even if the team is not yours like Atsu and Sam are.

The photo is taken and so, the team disassembles with Shinsuke avoiding your gaze like a plague. You play with your sleeve, watching as he hastily goes to Ojiro, looking agitated. Suna, you notice, sends after them a curious gaze before _staring_ at you without any sort of remorse. 

You wrinkle your nose. Does he want to fight? He totally wants to. Well, come on, bitch, let’s get started – Wait, no, you were supposed to be befriending him, not breaking his bones!

Could you fight Rin if he is to be your friend or would that be unethical? You fight with twins all the time but supposedly your relationship is not normal to some people, well, excuse the three of you for being so close, losers!

Suddenly, without any warning, you are pulled into somebody’s arms. Your back hits the chest of Atsumu, his head resting on yours. One of his hands plays with your hair, while he holds his arm around you. 

Atsumu stops your line of thinking, smiling softly, “So, what do you plan to do with the permission thing, sunshine?”

What. 

You flutter your eyelashes. What permission? What is he talking about? They need one, of course, but not you, right? No, not right, of course, you are going with them as the manager of their team. 

“Be useful for once in your life and give me a facepalm, Tsu-chan,” you sigh at your own stupidity, “Because I’m such a dumb bitch, Cthulhu, I’m going with you to Tokyo, I hate my life.” 

“Of course you are going with us, silly,” he pokes affectionately at your cheek, “You’re part of the team. How many times are we supposed to tell you that?”

You swallow. It’s hard, really, to get this into your head, but you don’t want to say it aloud, not now, maybe not ever, “I dunno," you say, hiding your real thoughts, “Three maybe? Maybe more?” 

“You’re going with us,” Atsumu chuckles at your expression, tipping his fingers on your cheek, “No escapes, sunshine, we’re the same deal, aren’t we?

“Yeah, we're convicted to be together forever, what a joy,” Osamu deadpans, hitting with his palm the back of Atsumu’s head, “We’re going to mama’s anyway, she can ask her to contact them.”

“You’re the best, Sam-chan,” you exclaim without any reservation, "Hey, AtsuAtsu, I want to hug OsaOsa too. He deserves to be hugged. Let's hug him, c'mon."

As the younger one sticks his tongue at his twin, Atsumu recoils with, “You’re spoiling her too much, Samu, you bastard.”

“As if you are any better. You can’t say no to [Name], how lame.”

“You are both idiots, just so you know,” you say, shaking your head as you put your hand in the air, “No, come here and join our hug! Group hug, group hug, group hug, Osa-chan!”

* * *

Kobe is the biggest city in the prefecture of Hyogo and is not so far from Amagasaki. It took you all about twenty minutes to get here, and only ten more go find your way to the intricate, traditional building near the harbor. 

Your feelings toward the city of Kobe are _complicated_ , to say the least. 

You know Kobe; it’s where you were born and grew up. You love this place, but at the same time, you dislike it very much. Every street is holding bad memories from your past while every alley holds your fondest. You would choose Amagaki over Kobe any time, but there is a place in Kobe you treasure the most in the world.

Himawari Ryokan is the place way out of the league of three of you, but there is no hesitance in the movements of your friends as they step in. Normally, there’s no way in hell a woman sitting in reception would allow three extremely sweaty and tired teenagers without any reservation. So, hurray for nepotism!

“Shiina-nee-chan! Granny!” Atsumu yells out, a smile creeping on his face, “We’re home! Did you miss us?!” 

While twins are both from Amagasaki, you lived in Kobe until your family - or rather, your father - decided to move to Tokyo. You were only eleven at the time and you absolutely refused to part with twins. No way in hell they would let it happen too, so after a long discussion, one of the kinds your mother refused to call an argument, your family bought the apartment in the complex next to the Miya household and you moved to Amagasaki. 

The woman sitting at the reception pales as she notices you, “Not again,” she whispers into the sleeve of her beautiful, blue kimono, “Oh, please, not again- Welcome, Osamu-kun, Atsumu-kun, Date-chan! Are you looking for Shiina-san?” 

You don’t remember her, though there is the air of familiarity around her. And, yeah, she recognizes both twins and you, so you had to meet her before. You squint your eyes, and okay, she looks familiar. You may have seen her before, though you have no idea what is her name or relation to the heiress of the inn. 

“Who would want the old bag?” Osamu yawns, covering his mouth with his hand. You pinch the skin of his hand at the insult. He shoots you a keen smile, before he continues, “Is mama busy?” 

He doesn’t even _try_. You roll your eyes, mostly because Shiina is not _that_ old. She is what? twenty-six? twenty-seven? You don’t know, but it is something like that. 

“Shouko-san?” the woman repeats, before looking frantically around. She looks nervous for the moment, that is before a voice comes from the hall, a shadow appearing at the edge of your vision. The fragrance of Shiina’s perfume hits your nose and you squeeze Osamu’s hand. 

The woman, wearing elegant sea-blue kimono, is as stunning as ever. You see her flower hairpin, tucked into the dark brown hair Shiina always wears in the neat bun, swaying in the air delicately. Your friends’ cousin frowns with disgust at them, waving the receptionist off. The woman hastily retreats deeper into the building, leaving you alone in the corridor of the inn. 

“What do you want, assholes?” she asks, tone sharp as she drops down to the seat at the reception. You can’t help but admire the way she does it with natural gracefulness you certainly lack, “We are busy! It’s the end of the week, you bastards, we don’t have time or energy to deal with any of your bullshit!” she huffs, irritated, before completely changing her face as she smiles towards you, “You are welcome here anytime, [Name]-chan, though. Even without reservation.” 

“Hello, Shiina-nee,” you give her a slight bow as you smile bashfully in greeting, “You look as beautiful as ever.” 

You love Shiina so much. The twins’ cousins used to take care of you, Osamu and Atsumu all the time. You used to be joined at the hip and trying to part you away from them was a very, very hard endeavor. It still is, to be honest. You don’t mind, not most of the time, you mean. 

“Don’t lie to the fugly bitch, [Name],” Osamu deadpans and you groan, putting your palm on your forehead. Do you even have the strength to tell him you are not lying? No, you don’t. 

The only thing the twins got out of the time they spent with Shiina, was disrespect toward the older woman and the authorities. The only thing she got was wrinkles which appeared way too early on her otherwise smooth and pretty face. Yes, that was a very bad deal for all of them. 

In contrast, you and Shiina get along just fine.

“Brats,” she answers in kind, narrowing her eyes as she rests her chin on her hands propelled on the table, “[Name]-chan, I’m surprised you are still with them. You could get yourself a much hotter boyfriend. Do you want me to introduce you to someone? Kai-kun’s younger brother is your age.”

Atsumu snorts derisively and you giggle awkwardly, your hands interlaced with those belonging to twins, “Who needs love when you have a friendship?”

The woman sighs, opening one of the desk’s compartments. Idly, she comments, as he hands drag a big book out of it, “I swear, I will never understand how you can prefer them over somebody hot and nice. You deserve so much better.” 

No, not really. You smile, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of your feet. They are all you ever wanted, all you will ever need, and yet, they are so much more than what you will ever deserve. 

“Maybe tell it [Name]-chan after you will be able to keep a boyfriend yourself, old bag,” Atsumu mocks her, hand pressing against your own, “We don’t care about your lazy, lonely ass, Shiina. Where’s mama? Is she busy?”

“I’m getting to this, you little troublemaker,” Shiina hisses at him, slamming the book on the desk, “I’m doing something important, you know,” she sighs, before she looks down at it, “According to her schedule, I believe she should be in the dressing room right now- Wait, don’t just go like that! You are _dirty_!”

“Sorry, sis,” you mumble before you are dragged along into the direction of the kitchen. You hear her growl as you disappear around the corner, “You know you can’t stop them!”

The three of you know Himawari Ryokan very well, so twins don’t hesitate to go ahead. Fuck that, they wouldn’t hesitate even if they didn’t know this place, but they spent a lot of time here, playing pranks and running in halls like little monsters. You were with them, of course, drawing on the paper walls of ryokan when the watchful eyes of your guardians didn't see you. 

The owner of the inn, the twins’ aunt, Miyako Miya, knew about the chaotic tendencies you three displayed and refused to see her property burned down at the hands of her troublesome nephews, so she always had you under guard. But what are nannies if not obstacles to be defeated? Well, one way or another, your point is that you have no problem maneuvering traditional halls of the ryokan, passing each guest as if you owned the place yourself. Don't twins own it, in some strange way?

Your thoughts disappear when Osamu slams the shoji door of the dressing room without any deeper thought, not caring about how old it is. Yes, poor auntie Miyako, she was absolutely right to watch over you like a hawk.

“Mama? Do you have time?” he shouts eagerly into the room, eyes sparkling. The question feels like the rhetorical one. 

As if Miss Shouko wouldn’t have time for precious sons. 

A soft hum of the woman echoes the room before she turns her gaze and her amber eyes meet his. She moves from her position with ethereal grace and beauty, face lighting up like the sun in the summer, “My sons!” 

She laughs, a sweet, honey-like voice leaving her lips as strides in your direction. You feel the need to kneel before her no matter how many times you see her, you can’t help it. Miya Shouko is still the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life. She walks towards you on her sandals with grace you certainly lack. You can’t help the amazement and jealousy that spikes in your chest as she comes closer to the three of you to greet, a small smile etched on her features.

With her long, dark hair braided at the top of her head like a crown, she looks striking even in her forties. The elegant kimono she is wearing, cloth in the color of orange and yellow, only seems to drown her honey-colored eyes more. She is wearing those awful sandals that always look like a hazard to your life, and yet, they fit her so well. She is somebody out of this era with that voice rivaling the birds’ song and summer-like laugh, she is the creature of myth. 

“You know I always have time for the two of you, you silly boy,” she embraces the twins in her arms, patting their heads when they bend down to wrap their arms around her, "You are my precious sons. I’m so proud of you two.”

There is one thing about being so close friends with someone for so many years – you get to know their parents very well. You are a pretty good authority on the twins’ parent if you could say so yourself and you know that Shouko Miya is an angel, which makes you question a lot about life because she gave birth to absolute antichrists.

“You both look so handsome. Did you grow taller when I was not looking?” she smiles at them, pulling back from the embrace as she looks at them with such love, your own heart burns with jealousy, “What is that bruise, Atsumu? Did you get it at practice?”

“No, that’s Samu’s,” Atsumu tattles his brother out, sticking his tongue out at his younger twin, “He attacked me, mama! I tell you, you have to get him therapy for those anger issues! One day he will snap.” 

“Deserved,” Osamu doesn’t even try to defend himself and flashes her peace sign. You stifle a giggle, not wanting to interrupt the moment between family, “He is so stupid, mama, you don’t even know the half shit he does at school.” 

“I’m stupid? You are the one who wanted to pick a fight with a bird.”

“It took my lunch!”

Do you even want to know? You roll your eyes, _Probably not_. Mama Miya only giggles at her sons fondly and reaches to stroke their cheeks with love in her eyes. You would totally deck them if you were her, but she is so much better than anybody on this planet. 

“It's good to see you as well, [Name],” she turns a little to look at you. You blush as she pulls you into a warm embrace and pats your back, “With each day you become more and more beautiful.”

The words make you blush profusely. 

“Yes, she does,” Osa instantly nods, making your red cheeks even redder. You notice his smile as Miss Shouko lets you go, “You would think it is impossible, but every day, she is just so much prettier. Damn you, [Name].”

“Osa-chan!” you scream out with embarrassment, provoking a chuckle from the older woman. You sigh, catching pouting Atsumu with the corners of your eyes. What is his problem? You shake your head, “Thank you, Shouko-san. It’s a stress thing, I think.”

“Oh my, do our boys get you in a lot of trouble?” she asks and then chides both of them gently, “Didn’t I tell you to take care of [Name]-chan, boys?” 

“No, no, no, I’m the one who is getting them in trouble,” you hastily retort, putting your hands defensively in the air, “They are the ones that drag me out of it, Shouko-san! They take care of me, I promise!” 

It’s not the complete truth, but you don’t have the heart to tell her what her sons do every day. She wouldn’t believe you anyway, being sure _her little boys_ are nothing but absolute angels. You remember when the teachers called her in the middle schools, because well, because of twins' twinsiness. 

You never thought your math teacher could bow before someone, but she trembled like twigs against the wind when she stood across Shouko Miya.

“They call her Princess in school, mama,” Atsumu confides, the traitor, rubbing the back of his neck, “She hates it so much, you don’t even know.” 

“It’s really stupid,” you defend yourself, “Inarizaki is so weird.”

The twins don’t have a father. You are not sure what happened to him – he was simply never here, and both Osamu and Atsumu didn’t care about him enough to ask. You are pretty sure they are afraid of hurting their mom, to be honest if they ask about him. 

_Momma boys_.

“Because that’s stupid, duh,” you defend yourself, shrugging, “I’m not a princess! Do I look like I’m inbred?” you sigh loudly, “Inarizaki is such a weird school, Miss Shouko, but the classes are cool, even if I have no idea how the school continues to exist.” 

“Kita,” Osamu says, “It’s Kita.” 

“I’m glad you are having fun, [Name]-chan,” she says, eyes crackling with concern. She pulls you into her arms again, “We were all worried about you, so I’m just so, so glad,” you stay silent, awkward and as if sensing your mood, she takes a step back, looking at you all warmly, “So, what do you need?”

Atsumu shakes his head before he smiles at her, “We can’t visit you just like that?” he asks, his words arrogant, but his smile warm and loving, “What do you think of us, mama? We are not some materialistic jerks.” 

“I know my sons well enough, Atsumu,” she chides him gently, before taking his hands into hers, “You need something, my beautiful boy, you always need something if you visit without telling me beforehand.”

“Well,” Atsumu avoids her gaze, flustered, “You know. There is that trip.”

“From the volleyball team,” Osa adds when his twin fails to properly explain, “We’re going to play matches with some teams in Tokyo and Sendai," Shouko nods at this thoughtfully, as Osamu pleads gently, "Do you think you could write permission for us?”

“Of course I will,” she smiles at them before wrinkling her nose in wonder, “But why trip so early in the year? That's a little unusual, is it not? Is your school in trouble?”

“We have to start training for the Inter-High, mama," Sam informs her. You nod fervently, although you don't even know what that InterSomething is. 

“We’re going to win Nationals,” Atsumu claims arrogantly, bringing his hand to his hip, “We will destroy all of the competition, you will see, mama, we will make you proud.” 

There already is pride in her eyes as she nods at them, not trying to argue at all. She doesn’t berate them, she just believes in them. You know that she believes they can do it, and you can’t help but pray she is right. You would like to see them win nationals. You would love that more than anything in this world. 

“Of course, Atsumu, Osamu. I will always cheer you on,” she says and they beam, the identical smiles appearing on their faces. Then, she turns toward you, “Would [Name]-chan need this permission as well? She became your manager, did she not?” 

As expected of the twins' mother and the person who knows you way too well. You bite down on your lip, making sure you don't stutter. You nod quickly, nearly hastily, wanting to get this out of your way already, “Yes, please. C-can you contact my parents for me, Shouko-san? I don’t want to. Please?” 

She nods nearly in a motherly manner and you feel relief blooming in your chest. Gods, thank you for creating such a wonderful woman. Cthulhu, thank you for making her mother of your friends. She is too good, hell. 

“I will make sure they mail it to your school,” she chirps, “They are very glad you are going to school again, you know. And were very proud when they heard you joined the volleyball club.”

You fight back curses that are on the tip of your tongue. There is an acid in your mouth, wanting to be released. You wish you could honestly tell her what you think about their pride and joy. Where they can take it. And if they were here, claiming those things, maybe you would speak up. Maybe you would tell them that. They are not here.

“If they are so glad, tell them to send more money,” your answer comes out jokingly, “I have more games to buy this month!” 

She doesn't feel the bitterness in your tone, but twins do. They send you worried glances, but you shake your head. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“You are such a silly, cute girl, [Name]-chan,” comes the warm tone of Shouko Miya, and you laugh, no matter how much you wish you could cry or scream, “I hope one day your parents will see that as well. You deserve much better.” 

You don’t, not really.

* * *

You kick blindly in Atsumu’s general direction, waking him rather aggressively, “You are snoring!” 

“No, I’m not,” he mumbles into your arm, leaving a bit of drool on it. You try to wriggle yourself out of his hold, but that causes him to be even more whimsy, “Don’t go, [Name], don’t leave,” he whimpers, “You smell so nice.” 

You snort derisively. The fragrance he is smelling right now belongs to the ryokan, so he is practically praising himself. 

“Shut up, Tsumu,” Osamu murmurs into the nock of your neck, “Go to hell, leave us alone.”

“I don’t want to.” 

“I hate both of you, you big babies,” you whisper furiously with furrowed eyebrows, “Why do I have to sleep in the middle? It’s too hot there.” 

“That’s because we’re hot, [Name],” Atsumu tells you, lifting his head from your shoulder and winking seductively with his drowsy eyes. He reaches with his hand toward your chin and holds it unsteady between two of his fingers, “Hotter than hell.” 

You snicker at that, batting his hand away, “Gross, Atsu-chan!” 

You roll out of their grabby hands, leaving both of them groaning as you move out of your joined futons. Humming slightly, you crawl off the space, ignoring the chaos of the room. So, okay, maybe your pillow fight was a tad too intense if the destruction is something to get by. 

Your phone, thank goodness, is still intact, just waiting for you.

“[Name], wear yukata next time,” you hear Atsu’s groan as he raises himself, “You would look so much cuter in one. Please, please, please.” 

A loud noise echoes around the room. You throw a glance toward the twins over your shoulder, only to see Osamu presenting you a peace sign with a stony expression and Atsumu lying on the floor, pillow atop his head. 

You sigh, bringing your attention to your phone and unlocking it with your thumb. 

Spending the night at the ryokan is something you do from time to time. Miss Shouko absolutely loved when you stayed over - she didn’t have a lot of opportunities to spend time with the twins, always busy with ryokan and whatever members of the Miya family did in the dark. 

So, yesterday the twins visited the inn's onsen, while you waited for them, having your hair braided by Shiina. You are not exactly comfortable at the thought of being alone with strangers in the bath, so you just waited for them. And return they did, though they looked like they were returning from the war. 

Then, you ate a wonderful dinner made by Miss Shouko herself. You feel yourself drooling at the memory, remembering how delicate salmon felt in your mouth. You helped her take care of the kitchen, tidying it up before wandering to the one unoccupied rooms. 

Miss Shouko knew you three long enough to get your only one room. She herself was staying at the inn tonight as well in the room not so far away from yours. So, what did three tired teenagers do in the darkness of their room, left alone to their own devices? 

Yeah, pillow fight! 

You are a vicious foe, though, and finally prevailed against them. After a moment you demanded to do something more productive, something more productive like, you know, playing UNO like losers you are. You only regret there was no Monopoly hidden somewhere.

Supposedly, the Japanese standard school operates on six days. _Standard school_ being the most important word. So, you and your Inarizaki peers have the whole weekend off. You don’t even want to know what the headmaster had to do to achieve it. Probably bribe somebody. The man sounds so wild. 

So, while your Saturday is a free day, your club still operates and you still have to go to school. There are no lessons, though, and so practice starts at eight. Himawari Ryokan was rather far away from Inarizaki, as it was placed in the Kobe Harborland, so you had to actually take a morning commute to school and go out much earlier. Well, you thought, it will be fine.

It’s not going to be fine.

Why?

Because of you.

Yes, you. You made an awful mistake. Managing the team's social media account will be fun, you said. You can do it, you said. Oh, you were such a sweet summer child. You didn’t understand. Inarizaki is a strange school, you knew. Inarizaki is a strange school fixated on a volleyball team more than it should be possible.

The first post? The one only with a photo of all your team did well. A lot of replies full of, a big number of likes and retweets, full success. Innocently, you uploaded Atsu’s serve and fell asleep.

It fucking exploded.

 ** _Inarizaki High Volleyball Team_** **@ IVBT**

_Atsumu Miya, our official setter, and his serve. We are still debating whenever he is human._

**_221198_ ** _LIKES **138976** RETWEETS_

**_AtsumuCanChokeMe_ @ floweytheden**

_I volunteer to have one served at my face @ IVCT_

**_[Name] did everything wrong_ @ tsumumiya**

_Let me ask the captain. He said no. @ floweytheden_

**_AtsumuCanChokeMe_ @ floweytheden**

_a.dkskfjjw flfr;l.v’ff I can die happy now_

**_my otp is better than yours @_ toobusyshipping**

_Why is some guy hitting ball so attractive? That’s should not be possible._

**_StanFoxes_ @ ihaveyourpassword**

_Cuz it is Inarizaki ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) Join us, we have pretty volleyball boys._

**_I will guess read next OP chapter_** **@ chocochocochoco**

 _Look at this, miracle boy (_ _✯◡✯)_ _@ushijimawakatoshi_

**_Ushijima Wakatoshi_** **@ ushijimawakatoshi**

_It’s an impressive serve._

**_[Name] did everything wrong @_ tsumumiya**

_You will see it closer at the Nationals._

**_[Name] did nothing wrong_ @ samumiya**

_bitch get into nationals first_

**_[Name] did everything wrong_ @ tsumumiya**

_I will, unlike you loser!_

**_Schopenhauer was right_ @ deadinside**

_were on the same team dumbasses_

 _**Ushijima Wakatoshi**_ **@ ushijimawakatoshi**

_I look forward to playing against you._

 ** _I will guess read next OP chapter_** **@ chocochocochoco**

 _Your answers are so boring, Waka – kun. Be more competitive! Hey, hey, hey, we will crush you you_ ☆⌒(≧▽° ) _@ tsumumiya @ ushijimawakatoshi_

 ** _Ushijima Wakatoshi_** **@ ushijimawakatoshi**

_I’m sorry._

**_[Name] did nothing wrong_ @ samumiya**

_fucking bring it bitch_

**_I will guess read next OP chapter_** **@ chocochocochoco**

 _I was talking to tsumu – kun |･ω_ _･_ _)_

**_[Name] did everything wrong @_ tsumumiya**

_We are package deal_

**_[Name] did nothing wrong @_ samumiya**

_Bitch_

**_Schopenhauer was right @_ deadinside**

_Im telling captain you two are talking shit again_

**_[Name] did everything wrong @_ tsumumiya**

_Don’t you dare, rin – kun!_

**_Schopenhauer was right_ @ deadinside**

_Too late lol_

**_I will guess read next OP chapter_** **@ chocochocochoco**

I guess they are already crushed (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ _@ tsumumiya @ samumiya_

 ** _Oikawa is trash_** **@ iwaizumi**

_@oikawatooruofficial someone did it better than you_

**_AlienHunter69_ @ oikawatooruofficial**

_That’s so mean, Iwa – chan ( `ε´ )_

**_Hoothoothoot @ theace_ **

_Thats so cool!!!!! @ kurooneko_

**_How do I get rid of bedhair?_ @ kurooneko**

_bet you can’t do something like that @ theace_

**_Hoothoothoot_ @ the ace**

_I totally can!!!! Just watch me at the practice!!!!_

You feel a little bit faint as you place your phone screen down on tatami. So many replies, people, and retweets. You don’t know how to react. You don’t want to know how to react. You saw fangirls, professional volleyball players, and people from other schools. You swear you saw somebody from Itachiyama and Kamomedai, and you are totally not okay with that. 

Fuck. This is embarrassing. Cthulhu, you even noticed twins starting argument under the tweet. Who does shit like that? Them, of course, them, who else, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Why are you alive? Where you are going? What is even this world? The fuck is happening, how people found a stupid Twitter account for the school volleyball team so interesting that they keep following it? 

You didn’t promote that shit! It just happened! Was it shit not supposed to be super hard?! How in the fuck is the number of followers still raising?! 

You hide your face in your hands and whine loudly, “I don’t want to go to the school. I want to die. Please, kill me already.”

“What is wrong?” Osamu is instantly at your side, pulling you into his chest, “[Name]? Did somebody contact you? Was it your,” he pauses, sounding a little bit unsure, “Was it your family? Your bastard of the brother?” 

You whimper, “The Twitter, Osa-chan!” 

Momentary silence reigns over the three of you. It doesn’t last long, of course, it never does when you are with twins. 

Atsumu clears his throat, sliding next to you and Osamu. He places his head at the silver-haired and you guess it because of his loud groan. Then, you feel his fingers coiling around yours, trying to tear them off your face. You fight back as hard as you want, not wanting to stop hiding. 

“Shouldn’t you be happy? It was a great success, sunshine,” Atsumu mellows into your ear, still pulling your fingers, “Everything thanks to me and my handsome face. We should start with that.” 

“Fuck off, Tsumu,” Osamu snap back at his twin, “The thought that somebody on this forsaken world actually enjoys watching you takes my whole happiness away. That is so lame and cringe.” 

“You jerk!”

At least they left you alone. You sniff a little as you drop your hands and see your pillow being kidnapped out of the futon and thrown straight into Osamu’s face. Eh, you didn’t like this pillow so much anyway. Okay, you did, but you are not going to cry over the abducted pillow. Probably. You look longing at it. 

Samu takes the pillow and starts to beat Atsumu with it, which means the blond has to take his own pillow in order to protect himself from the coming onslaught. Their stupid fight starts again. 

You look at your pillow. It is dying right now. _Dying._

You breathe out loudly while you still can. The worst thing? They are still wearing yukatas from the ryokan, which is never a good idea when you are going to fight somebody. You are used to the image of their chests, but you really, really don’t want to see anything more. Satan, save you, you hope you are not going to end up seeing anything more. 

“Oh, my boys are so energetic from the very morrow!”

There’s only one person in the world who can save it from the darkness. Shouko Miya, smiling, enters your room, holding in hands folded, clean cloths. You guess it is your uniforms and gym clothing, fresh out of laundry. 

“Hello, Miss Shouko,” you whisper shyly, before looking back at the sheepish-looking twins. You snort before continuing, “Do you want to have a ghost haunting your inn? A wonderful attraction for tourists. I totally volunteer to do that for you.”

“Oh, you silly, wonderful girl,” she giggles happily before gesturing with her hand at the room, “There are already ghosts haunting our ryokan.”

You break into a cold sweat, suddenly feeling dread tugging at your heartstrings. Nervously, you look at the twins and notice their faces paling. You gulp as you ask, “E-Excuse me, Miss Shouko?”

Shouko Miya only smiles, provoking you to take crawl back to the twins, reaching for Osamu’s hand. He takes your palm in his without hesitation, bringing you back to your feet. He is scanning the room, seeking the ghosts and that doesn’t help you at all. 

Do ghost even exist? You have no idea. Ghosts are not so easy to deny, as let’s say, aliens. No alien built the Egyptian pyramids, thank you very much, but ghosts are tricky. You are not sure about them and that, the great unknown, makes the whole thing ever more scary. 

“You’re kidding, right, mama?” Atsumu tries softly, dropping his pillows and reaching to your free hand, “Even if ghosts exist, there is no way we would have them here. Granny would scare them all away if Shiina’s face didn’t do that already.” 

Their mother hums in wonder.

A shiver runs through your body. You feel Osamu caressing the skin of your hand as he nods, pulling both you and Atsumu closer to himself, “Can you punch a ghost in its stupid face? I probably could.” 

Behind Miss Shouko you see Shiina sneaking in, a wide smile on her face. 

“Who are you talking about, Atsumu?” the twins’ mother smiles brilliantly, sparkles crackling in her dark eyes, “Oh, Shiina Miya, your great-great-great-grandmother? She died a hundred and twenty years ago, dear.”

The three of you bore your stares into the woman. She smiles.

You scream.

* * *

You want to take everything good you have ever said about Shouko Miya. She is fucking devil, just like sons. You lean more into Atsumu’s arm, tugging his jacket as you remember what happened in the morning. 

Your heart is still beating way too fast to be considered healthy, for fuck’s sake. You trusted her! She betrayed that trust with a radiant smile and way too much mirth. 

“Your mom is evil,” you whisper into the blonde’s sleeve, sniffing a little bit, “How could she do that? I can’t believe her, that’s pure evil and she was supposed to be an angel! If I can’t trust her, who can you trust anymore? Soon enough, I will find out that ever Caesar was not so cool as I thought.” 

Atsumu throws one of his arms around your shoulder, maneuvering you away from the person who nearly stomped on your foot. Osamu death glare glowers at the man and he hastily moves away, letting the younger twin step closer to the two of you. He places his head on his brother’s shoulder, yawning loudly. 

You hate the morning commute. You hate public communication. You hate _everything_.

“I will never trust her again,” the silver-haired boy murmurs as he takes his phone out of his pocket and starts to play with it. Or maybe he is messaging somebody, who knows, “But really, ghosts? What are we, three?” 

“Ghosts are scary, though,” you utter softly, “They are probably cannibals, Osa-chan.” 

“You are so cute, marshmallow,” he replies, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’m sure you were cute at three too. You are always cute, after all.” 

You giggle at that happily. 

“Why are the two of you treating me like a couch, you bastards?” Tsu shifts his shoulder, trying to get rid of Osamu, but letting you still rest on his arm, “Find yourselves better places to sleep, damn it.” 

“Was that a curse?” Osamu mumbles, making his twin glower, “At least you are useful for something once in your life, Tsumu. Why were so stupid to believe her words anyway? Not you, [Name], you have done no bad thing in your whole life.” 

“Shut up, person who can’t get even his jump floats serves right,” Atsumu replies, reaching over to slap his twin lightly on the side of his neck, “I don’t know why the two of you believe her. Ghosts, really? Samu is one thing, I suppose, but you too, [Name]-chan?”

“You screamed too, AtsuAtsu,” you point up, still securely hidden in his sleeve. You sigh, knowing that argument is going to spark up if you don’t change the topic. You are kinda tired of that, and to be honest, there is something on your mind, “Hey, Tsu-chan, Sam-chan, what are you guys thinking about this whole Miyagi and Tokyo deal anyway?”

You lift your head, looking at them and trying to read their expression. Atsumu instantly smiles brightly while Osamu only shakes his head, his honeyed eyes burrowed into your with the intensity of the sun. You shrug your shoulders. 

You should hate going to Tokyo and playing against Itachiyama. 

You really should. 

“Do you even have to ask, sunshine? Do you?” Atsumu’s hand strokes your hair gently and you lean into the touch. It’s really warm and consoling, the smell of his cologne making you a bit sleepy. The blond smiles like a child, not even trying to hide the joy sparkling in his eyes, “In Shiratorizawa, they have the Southpaw, Ushijima Wakatoshi. He is so cool, [Name]-chan, me and Samu saw him in the middle school but we never played against him. I’m going to crush him.” 

He wants to compete, huh? You hum, satisfied with the answer, “I will help you with the body, I guess. What are friends for, right, Atsu-chan?” 

Before he can answer, Osamu cuts in, with mocking edge to his tone, “It sounds like you are in love with Ushijima, Tsumu.”

“Shut up, Samu!” the blond shouts in outrage, provoking several scandalized gazes of the rest of the passengers. He ignores all of them easily, too focused on his stupid fight, “Who was talking about never forgetting his spike, huh?”

“Definitely not me, you bitch,” Osamu deadpans right back, without blinking. You groan, too tired of their shit and he glances at you, before sighing and rubbing his cheek, “I’m not a volleyball idiot like Tsumu, honey,” Atsumu snorts loudly, “But I’m kinda excited too. Forget playing matches, but all of that Sendai and Tokyo’s food,” he chuckles softly, “We’re not banned in any restaurant there.”

“Not banned yet, Sam-chan,” you giggle as you point up. This is so much like him, you can’t hold back the fondness you feel as you speak up again, “How long will that take us to change?”

“Three minutes?”

“You’re giving us too much credit, Samu,” Atsumu pokes his twin at the cheek, earning a sharp elbow in his stomach in response. He groans, but boldly continues, “They will close their doors on our noses, I’m telling you.”

“Hide your kids, hide your wife! The devil foxes of Kobe are coming,” you mock in a sing-song manner, and they laugh, while several of the passengers send you irritated glances. Well, excuse you for being happy. You lean into Atsumu’s shoulder, hiding from them. 

The blond twin doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, he only brings you closer, letting you practically lie on his chest. 

"What about you, [Name]?" you suddenly hear Osamu questioning. You raise your gaze to him and swallow as his sweet gaze meets your eyes, “Are you scared? Or are you excited? Do you want to - do you want to talk about it?” 

You feel Atsumu’s golden eyes landing on you as well. You giggle nervously, tapping your fingers against the blond’s chest, “I don’t mind Tokyo, if that what you are scared about, Osa-chan.” 

Your voice is strangely soft even in your own ears. You know what he is talking about. You don’t want to meet your parents. You don’t want to see them now or ever, and you hope you are not going to, mostly because meeting them means meeting your brother as well. 

You don’t care about that, to be honest. You don’t think about that. The only thing that matters to you, is, well- 

“I’m super excited,” you whisper, “I want to see the two of you play so much. I love you both, you know that?” 

More passengers look at you, but you and Osamu glower, pointing his middle finger at them. They turn around with indigitation, whispering something about young people in those times. Anger sparks in your chest, but you feel so good next to Atsu and Osa, and you don’t want to move at all. You love them, fuck, you do. 

"I'm going to watch you guys," you beam at them, raising your gaze to look at the both of them, “You are going to play and you are going to win, and I will be there with you, so that’s super cool, you know? You are going to be amazing, Atsumu, Osamu.” 

Atsumu smiles at you shakily, “You are going to kill us one day, sunshine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it filler? Probably. But we can't just jump into action!  
> So, for this chapter, I was researching Kobe’s onsens and ryokans, and one thing caught my attention. Arima Onsen in Kobe was founded in the 8th century. It’s still functioning. Charlemagne was living in the same place as this place was established. How wild is this? Would love to see it one day. The one question I always ask – where are the parents in anime? So, here is Mama Miya, who works at her family’s ryokan. She is very proud of her sons and takes care of Reader in the place of her parents.
> 
> This chapter was edited on 27.02.2021.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading :D


	12. In which you learn that the traditions of Inarizaki are simple (just mercilessly bully each other).

**Burn down Sendai and Tokyo**

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_Who changed our group name again?!_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_Samu_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_Tsumu_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_It was [Name]_

**_Date Name_ **

_wtf i tho we were friends_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_we’re not_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_but rin – kun_

_you gave me muffins_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_Rin – kun gave your muffins? Simp_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_I can’t believe it, but ^_

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_^_

**_Akagi Michinari_ **

_^_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_hey I’m the only one allowed to call others simps_

_ojiro, do something with your children_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_I don’t want any of them._

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_Wow, I cant believe our mother disowned us just like that_

_No wait, I totally can_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_Press f in chat boyz_

**_Ginjima Hitoshi_ **

_F_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_F_

**_Akagi Michinari_ **

_F_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_F_

**_Omimi Ren_ **

_F_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_Itz good tho, we still have Shinsuke_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_“shinsuke”_

_hey, if dad and mom are having divorce, does it mean [Name] is our new mom?_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_pffffff you want her as mom??!?_

_she cant even take care of herself_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_^_

_what awful day I just keep agreeing with tsumu_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_^_

_I cant take care of shit, rin – kun, you don’t want me as your mom_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_that wasnt my point dumbasses_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_Your point was stupid._

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_^_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_Hey_

_Hey_

_Hey_

_Bitch_

_You know who you are_

_You fucking own us bitch_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_What do you want, YOUNGER BROTHER_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_You owe us sushi, you loser_

**_Date [Name]_ **

_y’all_

_were sushing_

_atsu’s paying_

_who wants to go with us?_

**_Miya Atsumu_ **

_What???!?_

_Im not paying for you losers!_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_Im pretty sure ^ means he approves_

_Wonderful idea [Name]_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_Thanks trash_

**_Akagi Michinari_ **

_That’s super nice of you, atsumu!!!!_

_Hitoshi is coming too!!!_

**_Ojiro Aran_ **

_I will come as well! What about you, Shinsuke?_

**_Kita Shinsuke_ **

_I graciously accept your generosity, Atsumu._

**_Omimi Ren_ **

_Can’t, sorry_

**_Miya Osamu_ **

_Let’s meet today at threeaf nhskjhbrxncm kjrfdcn vn4_

**_Suna Rintarou_ **

_F for osamu died as lived, annoying the shit out of his brother_

This is how you found yourself accompanying twins to Gin Sushi, the only sushi restaurant in Kobe the three of you are not banned at. For now, that is. Nobody knows the day or the hour. No matter how much Gin likes Osamu, sooner or later one of you will fuck up. 

You always do.

You bite down on your lip, looking at your interlaced fingers. Were you bold? Were you to forward? You can’t help it, though. Saying dumb stuff just happens to you naturally. 

“I will split the bill with you, AtsuAtsu,” you tell him, not being able to meet his gaze, “I’m very, very sorry.” 

His thumb caresses your hand in the answer.

“Told you it’s all right, sunshine,” he answers kindly, “I’m not going to pay for them anyway, and if they are stupid enough to think I do, that’s their fault, not yours.” 

You still don’t like that. Maybe you should just pay for everybody? That seems like a good idea. You nod a little, but before you are able to say anything aloud, Atsumu uses his free hand to tap your nose.

“Nope,” he tells you as if he is able to read your mind. He doesn’t even elaborate, jerk, so you tug at his hand a little. He grins at you, before ignoring you completely to looking at his twin.

SamSam looks wan and pale. You squeeze his hand. He is the only one of you three sitting on the train, but he holds your hand anyway. You were lucky to get this one place anyway. Or, okay, luck has nothing to do with it. Atsumu practically attacked the seat the moment he saw it, before forcing his twin down.

Osamu has an awful case of motion sickness. Normally, he is able to ignore it, but it seems he had a bad night, which made him drink too much coffee. And now, just like you pay consequences of your innocent joke, he is paying consequences for drinking that awful drink.

“How long until our stop?” you ask, hating the way he looks so miserable. You also hate yourself at the moment, but that’s not really super important, “It’s like fifteen minutes to Kobe. It’s way more than fifteen minutes now.” 

“Yeah,” blond agrees with you, shaking his head before he comments loudly to the disapproval of the crowd around you, “This train sucks. We will take another line next time, Samu, [Name].”

You nod vigorously at that. Osamu rolls his eyes. 

“You are not as cute as you think you are, Tsumu,” he muffles. You squeeze his hand again, and he sends you a gentle smile, “I’m alright, don’t worry, [Name].”

Stupid SamSam. He doesn’t look alright. 

“Think about all the food we will eat, Sam - chan,” you try to cheer him up, “Gin - san’s sushi! Isn’t he like, super good?”

“He is,” your friend nods, “His tempura is to die for.”

“Tempura, tempura,” you hum, contentedly, “Vegetables in tempura. Shrimps in tempura. Eels in tempura.” 

He grins at that, probably imagining said food. There, he looks so much better when he smiles. Your SamSam should always smile like that. 

“Maybe I will kind enough to pay for you,” Atsumu teases him, “But shouldn’t you ask me for that, Samu?” 

“I would rather starve.” 

You giggle at that, but your happiness is stopped when somebody bumps into you, nearly sending you falling. Atsumu stops you, hastily catching you by the arm and tugging close to him. He releases your hand, quickly tossing his arm around your waist, clutching you closer to him.

It’s Sunday, the day you like to spend lying behind your covers and doing absolutely nothing, not being squeezed between twins as they try to keep you away from commute’s crowd. Public transportation sucks. Crowds suck. 

You turn around, looking at the fucker who tried to kill you, what the hell, you are going to fucking pierce his eyes with your nails, what is wrong with him - 

The boy glares at you with his yellow, sharp eyes, and you can’t help but recoil, leaning into your friend even more. H - he is really intense for somebody who is actually shorter than Atsumu. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, sounding not sorry at all. 

Your blond friend glares at him, looking ready to kill. Okay. You are about to be banned from fucking train line. You look back to Osamu, and - he looks furious into whitehead as well. Wonderful.

You are going to ignore it, and be sad. 

Of course, you cannot ever sulk properly. Kobe _Kosoku Line_ comes to an abrupt stop and would totally trip if you were not held by Atsu. You make sure you have a good balance, before tugging your friends to the exit. 

Tsu doesn’t want to move, just looking at the boy who bumped into you more. _Oh_ , you can’t help, but think, _This idiot._

“Tsu - chan, Osamu is dying,” you hiss, “Let’s go.”

This makes him actually move, letting you drag him and his twin to the exit. Yes, he is very cute. Even when he’s angry, he still tries his best to take care of you and Osamu, that's him alright. Your idiot. Your dramatic bitch. 

You shift your gaze to Osamu, who is still looking back as if he is forgetting he was dying minutes ago. Here is your Mr. _I Will Die For You_. You fight back the groan. 

He shrugs as he hears you before he takes the lead.He fights his way out of the subway and the station. He does so valiantly, trying to not get killed by people and protecting you from them at the same time. You hate how small you feel next to all of those people, how nervous they make you. Some of them don’t even appear to be sorry as they trample into you. Not until they see Atsumu’s deathly gaze, that is.

“Come on, Tsu - chan,” you moan, squeezing his hand, “It’s alright, you know. Sam - chan is alive. I’m alive. And we are going to eat.”

He still doesn’t react, looking so frightfully angry. You share a glance at Osamu, who looks so much already. He is breathing heavily, but the color of his cheeks starts to normalize.

You squeeze Atsu’s hand and try.

“You know, you were super cool when you caught me so swiftly.” 

More impactful words couldn’t be spoken.

“[Name]!” he flashes you a childlike smile and picks you around the waist. As your hand is aggressively pulled free from Osamu’s grasp, Atsumu spins you in a joyful circle before setting you back on the ground, still grinning widely, “I always knew I could depend on you,” he ruffles your hair, “You are my favorite.”

“Don’t destroy my braid now, AtsuAtsu, you jerk," you giggle, "It took an hour to do it, you know."

It really did. You woke up early! On Sunday! That’s a real sacrifice. It took you a while to do a perfect lace braid ponytail, but after three or thirteen tries you were satisfied with your hairstyle. Your outfit was carefully chosen as well. Instead of wearing something belonging to twins, you found your favorite turtleneck and jeans, before stoping to choose your shoes. Finally, you decided on ballerina heels. 

They looked so cute. Absolutely lovely. 

"And it will take twenty seconds to destroy it, sunshine," he winks at you playfully. You can't be angry at him, not like that, and he knows it.

You tap your foot, before offering one of your hands to him.

“We’re going to hold hands,” you demand playfully, “Just like in elementary school _. We are all in this together._ ”

“ _High School Musical,_ eh?” no matter how biting his words are, his lips are curled in a smile, “I hate how I’m able to recognize it.”

He ruffles your hair again, before dutifully taking your hand. You beat at this, raising your second hand to Sam. You both look at him, but Osamu instantly shakes his head. He then processes to grasp your hand anyway, bringing you all to actually hold your hands like in elementary, just like you wanted.

“I feel better. I’m hungry,” Osa directs to his brother, “Stop being so gross.” 

Osamu starts to drag the two in the direction of Gin Sushi, ignoring whatever Atsu wanted to communicate. You cackle. He would probably do this the whole way, but Atsumu never says no to little competition. After a few seconds, you are the only person left hanging peacefully in the back as two hotheads force you along, walking definitely way too fast.

You swing your hands even more violently then, nearly causing yourself to stumble. You are held back of course, by two much stronger athletes, so you only laugh as they try to balance your stumbling form.

“Do we even know if they will come?” grimaces Osamu, probably thinking how much he is going to waste on somebody else's food, “How about we just write to them we changed our identities and fled the country?”

“But then we can’t play volleyball, Samu,” the idea is instantly refused by the older twin, “And we _finally_ have practice matches. With Shiratorizawa. With Ushijima.”

“Why is that when it comes to volleyball, you are suddenly five years old at best?”

“Because volleyball is the best!” he shakes his head, being way too excited talking about it, "Don't you want to crush Ushiwaka, Samu? Not to even talk about this dolt, Sakusa. We have to take our revenge from middle school."

"You mean your revenge, Tsumu," comes the younger twin’s answer, "You were the one who claimed you will get more service aces than him."

"Hey now, you are supposed to be at my side!"

"Why?"

You squeeze their hands, trying to catch their attention. Their argument instantly comes to a close, as they direct their amber eyes at you.

“Hey, do you two want to hear about my dream?" you ask them, and then don't wait for the answer, "So there was this unicorn.”

“Why was the unicorn in your dream?”

“I will ask a better question, how was the unicorn in your dream?”

“It was the bitch unicorn,” you explain patiently, “His name was Johnny. What sort of unicorn is named Johnny anyway? He should be named something cool, like the Lunar Eclipse or, I don’t know, the Sound of Silence?”

“Your ideas for names suck," proclaims Atsumu, smiling arrogantly, "I would think of better ones."

“So why don't you?" snaps back Osamu, "And it doesn't suck as much as your name does, Tsumu.”

“Hey, my name is pretty cool," he instantly fires back, "You know what sounds even cooler? _Tsumu_. And _Samu_ , but it will never be as cool as mine. ”

“It has to be really nice, living in your head, oh brother of mine," Osamu sticks his tongue out, before he continues, "So much fucking denial.”

Actually, tossing Johnny and his stupid name to the bin in your mind. You blink at them innocently, thinking about it intensely, because, really. They used to call you by different names before, did they not? So why did they stop?

“Hey, why don't I have a nickname? You always call me by my name. Or sunshine, I suppose.”

Huh. They stop their bickering. The three of you continue in silence, as they contemplate the problem before you. Yes, you call Atsumu _AtsuAtsu_ or _Tsu_ , while Osamu is _Sam_ and _OsaOsa. Y_ our very own nicknames for them since childhood, even after they returned from their first volleyball practice telling you how they are now _Tsumu_ and _Samu_. You were way too stubborn and petty to let go of names you chose all those years ago, and they finally gave up on trying to persuade you after three weeks.

They never called you [Nickname] like your mother or tried to come with a nickname of their own. Lazy sons of a bitch. Okay, their mom is not a bitch, she is actually pretty nice, but. When you were younger they used to call you different names. 

Mostly witch or little star. Yeah, Atsu was mean, while Osamu was not. When you started middle school, Atsumu started to call you _sunshine_ or _sunny_ , which always made you wonder. You could be pretty happy sometimes, but most of the time, you were a mean bitch, so you never thought that one was right for you. Osamu, on the other hand, stayed with your name only, calling your _sweetheart_ or _dear_ when he felt particularly tender.

“Because you are our sunshine, I guess,” decides finally Atsumu, as he awkwardly averts his gaze. The corners of his ears are red, you notice.

“I could call you honey if you want to,” nods Osamu, as he caresses your hand with his thumb, “That one suits you too."

“Disgusting,” calls a voice, “Please hold your PDA to minimal levels before I throw up.”

You tilt your head. The owner of the voice is easy enough to find and identify – right here, officer, that’s him. Rintarou Suna, looking as dejected and listless as ever. It's a strange experience to see him out of his sports clothes. Because, wow, he is actually a human being, not a zombie who only wakes up to play volleyball.

“Oh, if it’s not our dear Rin – kun!” shouts Atsumu in fake – cheer, “Kids, greet Rin – kun.”

“Hi, Rin – kun!” you nod to him enthusiastically.

“Hello, Rin – kun,” reiterates Osamu calmly.

“Gross,” Suna frowns at the three of you, as he steps closer, “This nickname is so gross. You are so gross. Give me food or I will leave.”

“Please leave,” Atsumu asks him politely, grinning the whole time, “We will not miss you.”

“How are we supposed to give your food in the middle of the street?” you wonder aloud, “That’s literally impossible. Are we supposed to be wizards?

“If I was a wizard, I would conjure food for myself,” rationalizes Osamu, “I want to eat.”

“What do you want to eat, Sam – chan?” you ask him, grinning mischievously.

“Everything," he answers instantly as he shakes his head, "Don’t make me choose, [Name].”

Suna sighs deeply as he joins you. Well, well, well, time to continue. To Gin Sushi! 

You didn’t expect that lazy, lazy Rintarou would actually decide to meet with you, but if he showed up. It’s possible more people will do it. You would like to actually see Shinsuke and maybe Ojiro, he’s cool, but the rest of the team. 

Ugh, your poor wallet. Maybe a spontaneous dimension door to the Bermuda Triangle will open and teleport you to escape this misery. You cherish _not – quite – yours – for – now_ games very much, okay?! Maybe even more than Atsumu. But not more than Osamu. He is your favorite after all.

“I can’t believe I decided to deal with you three on my free day as well,” comments Rin idly as you walk. How lovely.

“You love us, deep in your heart, Rin – kun,” Atsumu teases him, “If you have a heart, that’s it.”

“I’m not you, I have one,” The _Naruto_ hater argues monotonously, “It’s just dead. It happens.”

“Shit happens,” Osamu agrees easily enough, “But not in Sushi Gin. Do you see it already? I do. It’s so, so beautiful. I think I will cry.”

“I don’t.”

“Want me to pick you up?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Atsumu scolds the two of you before you can agree, “Let’s go already.”

Instead of picking you, volleyball players pick up the pace and drag you along. Your feet start to hurt and your breath is a little tiny bit heavy, but yeah, Gin Sushi is not so far. It's the little restaurant, hidden between buildings and massive city halls. It certainly has some nice qualities – Gin’s sushi is to die for, the place is very calm among the city's noise and you can actually sit on a table instead of having seats only next to the bar. Most importantly, you are not banned there. It's always nice to not be.

You enter the establishment, Osamu instantly greeting Mr. Gin with a wave. He doesn’t even notice that Shinsuke, Ojiro, and Gintama are already inside, sitting just next to the wall, not so far away. You bounce to them, this time being the one doing the dragging. You don't actually have enough strength to pull them along, so they most likely just follow you, but you don't care.

“Hi!” you speak merrily, before plopping down shamelessly next to Shinsuke, “How are you, Shinsuke?”

You pull Atsumu and Osamu along, and they have no choice but to sit as well. The person beside you ends up Osa, which is great. You can practically hear why in Atsu's words. No food is safe close to you, blah, blah, blah. You both eat perfectly normal, thank you very much.

“[Name], Atsumu, Osamu,” he greets the three of you, before nodding to Suna, who has no choice but to flop down beside Atsumu, “It’s nice to see you.”

“I’m not paying for any of you,” blond tells in greeting, “Not for you, not for you, not for you, and definitely not for you, Samu!” he points to Suna, Gintama, Akagi, and his own brother, “The rest of you are cool.”

“We wouldn’t make underclassman pay,” comes the calm response of Kita, "We were just teasing you."

Just look at that classy man. You giggle. Akagi, in turn, looks away pointily. You roll your eyes. Well, someone would totally make underclassman pay.

“Good. I'm going to lose all of my money at them already," and when Akagi and Ojiro look at him in disbelief, he explains "You don’t know how much those two eat,” accuses the older twin, focusing his heated gaze at you and Osamu, “They have a void in the place where the stomach is supposed to be.”

“And yet you would pay for me,” you point up, flashing a fond smile, "You love us!"

“At least it’s not where the brain is supposed to be,” snatches back his brother, “Did you already order, or has that moron interrupted that as well?”

“Who are you calling a moron?!”

“You, obviously,” Rin deadpans at them, playing with his phone. 

“We didn’t, we waited for the rest of you,” interjects Ojiro, shaking his head, "You really can't get along at all? You are twins."

“Not by choice,” Osamu answers, before shouting to the chief, “Hey, Gin – san?”

Gin – san, or rather Ginichi Tanaka, the owner of the restaurant, beams at Osamu as he leans from the sushi bar. He is a man in his mid-forties, with black hair and a face full of wrinkles around the mouth and eyes. You found him to be a rather nice and cheery person, who absolutely loves talking with your friend. Which means he is okay. For now. Maybe he is secretly in some really macabre things. 

“Oh, if it’s not my favorite customer!” he exclaims, sincerely looking happy to see Osamu, "How are you, dear boy?"

“Hey, Gin – san,” the older woman sitting at the bar interjects grumpily, “I thought I was your favorite customer.”

“You nag too much, Nadeshiko – san,” he waves her off, “Osamu, my boy, you look good. How is volleyball going for you?”

Osamu, in turn, talks to Gin with a glint in his eyes, truly enjoying the older gentleman's company. You know they exchanged some recipes recently, and Gin even showed your friend his sacred knives.

“That’s rare,” comes Gintama’s whispers, “Someone likes Miya’s company?”

“Miracles,” Akagi answers him, smiling widely, “They happen sometimes, right?”

“Yeah, who would have thought?” wonders Atsumu, before leaning into his brother in order to talk to you, “What do you want, sunshine?”

 _Everything._ You lick your lips. You can't, you know, to order everything. You will not even try, remembering how offended Atsumu was, but you can at least get your favorite pieces and it is a thrilling thought for your empty stomach.

“California maki, California maki, California maki!” you whisper to him hastily, “And nigiri! Spicy, please. Oh, and get me tea, okay?”

“Got it, sunny,” he nods and pats your hand, before turning to Gin in order to specify your order and his own, “Hey, Samu, stop clogging Gin - san! I actually want to eat, you know?”

You smile at this, before feeling several gazes at yourself. You turn around and face Shinsuke directly. Well, that's awkward. You are going to be questioned, aren't you? You always are.

“He orders for you?” questions Kita, but not in the accusing manner you are used to, "I didn't expect it."

People always freak out about it, calling you too codependent, too shy, too _everything_. Well, fuck them all. Both of the twins don’t care about it, knowing that they avoid stressing you out this way. It's not an inconvenience for them, they said time and time again, claiming they will do as much as you need them to.

“Aah, yes,” instinctually, you start to nervously play with strands of hair that escaped from your braid, “I’m awful with people, just getting too nervous, you know, curse too much, you saw it first-hand. They help me out like that.”

“You are not awful at anything,” he disagrees with you, glaring at you with a cold gaze, “You shouldn’t put yourself down.”

Somehow, even with his ice eyes, he looks soft. Ojiro covers his mouth, before looking around the table as if he didn’t believe what Kita said. You blink, as the table becomes suspiciously too quiet. 

You know what? It’s not important. What's important instead? Well, the temperature, of course! It’s suddenly very warm here, is it not? Like, way too much? Or maybe it’s just you? You can’t help it. You fluster. How is this possible that somebody so, you know, robot-like, is so smooth? You are pretty sure his Charisma Stat has to be maxed.

You ignore the gazes of the team and bump his shoulder in a teasing manner. You do this a little cautiously, you guess, but it is your first time touching him in such a manner. He doesn't seem disgusted by the motion, so yay! You are not gross to him! Friends, friends, friends. You are so going to be friends.

“Thanks, Shinsuke,” you smile at him, still a little bit red-faced, before changing the subject, “And, oh, yeah, is it okay if I take a photo of us and publish it?”

“I don’t have a problem with it," Kita nods as he looks to the rest of his teammates, “It is what it was created for.” 

In come the affirming noises of the rest of them.

“Go ahead, Date – san.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

"It's not like I have the energy to move to avoid it, so go ahead."

You beam and take out your phone, quickly snapping the picture. It's a cute one, you suppose. Just all of you, sitting around. The twins, arguing and shouting. Suna lays half-dead on the table. Shinsuke, as serious as ever, and Ojiro, smiling lightly as Akagi flashes peace signs with his hands. Even Gintama doesn't look like a jerk he is. You publish it quickly and set your phone aside, not wanting to see the mad comments it will create.

“Hey, did you see the numbers behind Date – san’s posts?” Akagi asks excitedly, looking at your phone longingly, “They are pretty big! Isn’t being popular the best?”

You think of people begging you to scream at them. Of people watching you as you walk with twins, eat with Sara, or really do anything. Don’t they have their own life? Are they so bored? Somebody will die and it will not be of fun, but of your very own hands. Twins whip their heads, probably thinking the same and you chorus the same answer.

“Fuck no.”

“Nope.”

"Haha, no way.”

Akagi sweatdrops at three of you.

“Triple attack,” sighs Gintama, as he throws his arm around his friend, “Triple idiots.”

“Wow, name-calling, so mature,” you show him your middle finger, as you stick your tongue out, “How was your homework on nuclear energy, Gintama?”

“Yeah,” Rin is fast to help you, to your surprise, “How was it, Gintama? You know, I got the highest mark I ever saw with my own, very dead eyes. It has nearly made my dead heart alive again.”

“Same,” adds Atsumu with his insurable smile, “Our dear teacher even praised me and Samu. What about you, Gintama?”

“I’m not Gintama,” seethes the volleyball player, before his cheeks become red as he probably remembers his mark, “I failed it.”

You cackle evilly at this. Well, well, well. You are such an awful person, and you enjoy it way _too much_. But he was being a jerk about it, so. His fault. If he was nice, you would do his work and get him a pretty mark.

“Press F,” you announce, feeling satisfied, "For our comrade, Gintama, who has fallen because he believed girls are worse."

"It was about your age!" he has the audacity to argue, "Not your gender!"

Your squad – Osamu, Atsumu, Suna – doesn't care about it, probably too much happy to tease somebody, and so they deliver at the same time.

“F.”

“F.”

“F.”

Music to your ears! Hah, it's better even than online, because you can see the expression of your victim. Ojiro sighs at your antics.

“Children,” he comments, before turning to his friend, “Shouldn’t you say something, Shinsuke?”

All of you look at him. The captain of the volleyball club takes a slow sip of his tea, before placing it delicately on the table. Your breath hitches in anticipation.

“Something.”

You hear several people facepalming at once. You giggle, clapping happily as Osamu and Atsumu look at him with wonder. Robo - dads are the best. Their dad's humor is on point, ho!

“Kita – san, please, not you,” begs Suna in what would be tearful – manner, but it’s Rintarou, so it sounds just empty and dead, “You can’t do this to me. You’re my last hope.”

“Why? Why did you say this, captain?” laments Akagi, "We are truly lost now!

You laugh, before leaning at his shoulder playfully. He doesn't step away, so. Next win for you. You are just amazing at this friend thing it seems. Or Shinsuke is just so nice he doesn't want to make you sad. Probably this one.

“Nice,” you comment anyway, smiling brightly, “Drag them further!”

“Huh?" he would totally blink at you if he was not your robo - dad, "Drag them where?”

“Straight to hell, where they belong,” you giggle gleefully, “Devils.”

“And who is speaking?” Atsumu accuses you, pointing his thumb at you, “The princess of the devil foxes herself, the Vixen of Inarizaki!”

“Fall to your knees, peasant,” you order, “And worship me.”

“Yes, your highness,” comes Rin’s dead voice, “Please, send me straight to my death.”

“Fuck off,” you smile at him friendly as you flash middle finger, “You are off my list.”

“Huh, what list, Date – san?” asks Akagi curiously. He is so going to regret asking!

“My Murder List, of course," you explain earnestly, smiling the whole way sweetly, "You are still on it, Akagi – senpai.”

“H – huh? Me?" he stammers, “W – why?”

His fear is delicious. You cackle, as you remember his offenses. The most heinous one of them all. Really, how stupid do you have to be to ask things like that? You shake your head and shrug, not feeling a bit of guilt.

“You asked me if I date Atsu or Sam – chan.”

“Gross,” comments Osamu, "And lame."

“Pervert,” adds Atsumu helpfully, “Don’t you worry, Michinari – kun, everybody who’s on [Name]’s list still lives,” he smiles at his upperclassman, “Yet.”

“What do you mean yet?!” he nearly stands up. You chuckle like the evil overlord you will be in the future, "That's not funny, you know!"

“Do you accept applications?” the noirette inquiries. Well, it seems you caught Suna’s interests, “Please, write my name on it.”

“You were here, for the moment, Rin – kun,” you wave him off, “The moment you gave me those muffins, I erased your name. I’m cheap bitch.”

You meet the gaze of Ginichi, who places several plates with food on your table, smiling at you the whole. You nearly squeal, but contain yourself, instead choosing to drool over the coming food.

“It’s coming, it's coming, it's coming,” announces Osamu excitedly as he looks at Gin, “Thank you, Gin - san. I'm sure it is going to be as delicious as ever.”

“No problem, Osamu!” the sushi chef smiles as he places first orders on the table, "You are really my favorite customer, my boy."

Atsumu takes it quickly, way before Osamu can snap it for himself, and puts it before you. You grab your chopsticks, ignoring how Gin actually has to take several turns to bring everybody their food. You start to eat, not waiting for anybody. Manners? New phone, who dis? Osamu does the same to sighs of well, everybody around. The two don't care, too much engrossed in food.

“Yummy!” you cry, as you munch on sushi, “So, so yummy! TsuTsu, SamSam, there is mango in this one!”

“Gimme, [Name],” you nod to Osamu and bring with chopsticks the said piece to his mouth. He eats it quickly, and brightens, “That’s so good, honey.”

“I know!” you cover your mouth, still chewing, “So sweet and spicy, and salty… Gin – san is so talented!”

“Thank you, Date,” the owner cheers as he places the rest of your orders, "It's really nice to hear!"

You fluster a bit, before hiding in your friend's shoulder. Okay, that's embarrassing. You didn't expect he would hear it, ugh. How are you supposed to look at him ever again? Could some serial killer come along and just put you out of the misery already? Osamu pats you soothingly.

"Atta, girl," he murmurs in your ear, "He is happy, you know. Not going to hire a hitman."

Okay, you are going to hire one then. You redden a bit, embarrassed before you direct your gaze at SamSam. Your friend smiles softly as he reaches over to pinch your cheek. He is trying to calm your racing heart, and you are not going to lie, it works. You leave a deep breath out of your lips, letting his presence comfort you. There is truly no better friend than Osamu Miya. 

With your heartbeat steadied, you shift your attention to the other twin, who looks at the two of you with a strange expression.

“Atsumu?” you lean to the blond. You are still not wanting to look at others, for now, that's it, but something is not right with him. Food always brings everybody's mood up, so you can try to offer him one. Smiling, you do just that, “Want one, AtsuAtsu?”

“No,” he is way quick to answer, avoiding your gaze. Your heart skips a beat. What? It feels, it feels as if he is refusing not only the offer but you as well. He shakes his head, still not looking at you, “No, no, no, thank you, sunshine.”

“You don't want to?” you ask him hesitantly and wince at how miserable you actually sound. Maybe you feel a little hurt. Oops. Did you do something wrong or what? Is he angry at you? You wrinkle your nose, “Why? You like mango. You eat it all the time.”

At the sound of your sad tone, Osamu instantly sits straighter. He starts glaring at his brother, but Atsumu still ignores him, provoking the younger twin to slap him in the back of the head. 

"Out with it, Tsumu," he orders curtly, not wanting to entertain Atsu's bullshit, "What's the fuck is wrong with you, again?"

“It’s embarrassing,” the blond finally admits, avoiding your gaze like the plague. What. What. What. His answer was supposed to answer things, not confuse you more! You wrinkle your nose in frustration, and he sighs as if dealing with you is a tough task, “You two are so oblivious about it, Samu, sunshine.”

Oblivious about what? About being friends? What's wrong with that? His answer confuses you even more and you look at Osamu, seeking his guidance and telepathic power. He shrugs, surprisingly not being able to tell what the blond’s problem is. 

“We share food all the time," you murmur weakly, lowering your head and sulking a bit, "Since we are children. What's wrong with that?" 

Suddenly, you feel yourself being objected to the gazes of the rest of the table. The attention is uncomfortable, so you lower your head, embarrassed, and tug Osa's sleeve. Your favorite only shakes his head, murmuring _what a bitch_. Everything is fine then, you decide. The silver-haired twin calling his twin names brings back the balance this world needs. You don't understand why is everybody so interested in you, that's for sure, but you can ignore it. Or at least try. Osamu would tell you if it was important.

“Fucking wuss,” Osamu insults his twin simply, and tries to instantly shift your attention, “Want the one with tempura and eel?”

“Yes, please!” you instantly straighten up. Listen, you are a cheap bitch and don't need anything more than food. Good food. You look at him expectedly and he delivers it straight to your mouth. You moan from sheer pleasure. So good. So yummy. That tempura is seriously to die for. 

The table soon loses interest in your habits as their own plates are delivered. Blessed silence reigns over your table, interrupted only by you taking a hasty photo and uploading it on your social media with some stupid comment, and, well, both you and Osamu sharing sushi. It’s nice. It’s comforting. It’s warm. It's nice for the second. 

Happiness is difficult to define, you know it very well. But you think if you were to write an explanation, you would probably simply write this: spending time in the restaurant with this volleyball team. They are lovely people. They took care of Atsu and Osa, and now they are taking care of you. Nobody is joking about you, nobody points at you with their fingers, nobody insults you - 

You feel cuddly, as the last pieces are being eaten, so you lean into the twin's shoulder. That feeling doesn’t last long, because your calm atmosphere is soon destroyed. Of course, it’s fucking is demolished. Who are you dining with, normal people? Haha, no. 

“Hey, Samu,” Atsu starts innocently enough, giving his twin _the look_. Fuckers, communicating without you yet again. You arch your eyebrow, but before you can understand what is happening, Osa slaps his brother’s hand. 

“Fuck off,” Osamu shakes his head, but Atsu knows the younger too well and just continues looking at him with a grin. Osamu narrows his eyes, "Seriously, that's lame, Tsumu." 

“Those are words of a loser,” Tsu raises his eyebrow at his twin suggestively, his lips curled into a mocking smile, “Are you so afraid of losing? I understand, after all, you don’t stand a chance against me.” 

“What did you say, you little shit?” 

Osamu, bless his naïve, beautiful soul, falls into his trap. You sigh. There we go again. What it is this time? Fire? A flood? How are you going to get banned? Maybe they will be at least original about it. You straighten out, stretching your shoulders. They give off a little, satisfying pop. 

“You heard me, scrub,” Atsumu watches him with shining eyes, “You are afraid.” 

“You’re in,” Osamu looks him straight into the eyes, before shifting his gaze to something on Atsu’s plate, “Gimme that.”

You yawn, seeing that they are doing something even dumber than normal. You are doing your best to ignore them, enjoying your food in peace. Some people, _Ojiro, you are talking about Ojiro_ , don’t have that much common sense. He probably knows them the longest apart from you, and he still falls for it. Welp. You will pray for his soul in hell. 

That's a stupid way to lose it, by the way. He could at least sell it or something for a power.

“What thing you are doing now?” he asks, exasperated, "It's better not be something stupid!"

“We’re going to see who can eat more of the wasabi,” Atsumu nods, very much proud of himself. Not something stupid, huh? You are pretty sure that’s very, very stupid. You hum, as you ponder. Are you dumb enough to join? Yes, probably. 

“I’m in,” Gintama decides, his eyes flashing a competing spirit. You grimace. Now you have to kick his sexist ass. 

“Gintama – kun,” the blond twin mocks him, “I always knew we could count on you.”

“Don’t call me Gintama, Atsumu, or you will not be able to count anything.”

You roll your eyes. And he doesn’t know why you don’t like him. 

“That sounds like fun,” Akagi chips in cheerfully, “I want to try it.”

He bumps his fist with Gintama, who seems to be even happier now that the team libero is participating. Huh. He is easy to please, that misoginistic jerk. 

“I want in as well!” you raise your hand like an overexcited school kid, “I’m good at eating spicy food!”

Hey, that’s stupid as hell! Your kind of stupid as hell! You are going to win. You are so going to win and shove it in everybody’s faces. Gintama is going to listen to the tale about how this little, younger girl kicked his ass. 

Your eyes sparkle with fire that no water can extinguish. It's so stupid. So dangerous. You are in.

“You’re good at eating, not eating _spicy_ food,” Osamu pats your cheek fondly, “Don’t force yourself, [Name].”

“Kay, Sam – chan,” you pout, before smiling mischievously, “You’re talking like that because you’re afraid I’m going to kick your ass?”

He headpats you, his lips twitching in the challenge. He can’t say no now, and you know it very well. 

“Bring it on, honey,” he tells you, and you giggle, “I’m not going easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“What does the winner get?” Suna questions, showing his materialistic side, “Other than pain and possible death?”

Huh. The prize? Do you need one? Bragging rights are in some way the only thing you are after. If you do win, all of these people are going to hear you shoving it to their faces constantly. Apart from Shinsuke, of course, you think he is too good for something like that. Wait, Shinsuke?

Shinsuke, who currently raises his hand to the chef.

“Excuse me, sir, can we get eight glasses of milk?”

“Coming right in, son!”

“Wait, eight? We both are doing it as well, Shinsuke?! Why are so into it?!”

“So responsible,” you gush jokingly, before sticking your tongue at Atsumu, “Learn from him, Atsu – chan.” 

He childishly pokes you in the nose as the answer, as the rest of your table starts to debate the conundrum before you. 

“More food for the prize.”

“Loser has extra drills at today’s practice.” 

“Prize, huh? That's a good question.”

“How about we pay for the loser's order?” Ojiro proposes finally, looking actually a little bit tired of your shit, “It seems like the best option. The simplest one.”

“Okay!”

“I’m going to win!”

“After my dead body, Tsumu.”

“It’s going to be fun!”

* * *

It was not fun at all.

You fall straight into Osamu’s knees, practically dead.

Akagi, the winner, flashes everybody a peace sign.

* * *

This one update was one I wanted to write from the very beginning. You know, Inarizaki’s team is just chilling and eating. And I didn’t forget Kosaku this time, haha. Gee, now I wish I could have sushi. 

I actually gave each character a number and told my friend to choose one from 1 – 8. She chose 4, Akagi. So he won :D My second friend chose 7, which was Suna, so that’s why he ended up being the second!

I think we are 1-3 updates away from going to Miyagi and Tokyo! I practically did everything I wanted to do before going into the world. I might be a little bit scared about writing the actual matches, but I will do my best! I actually think about writing from a different POV, because MC is so clueless about volleyball, all she could probably think would be “Osamu is cool, Atsumu is cool, the second team sucks”.

Stay safe everyone! Hope you have a wonderful day and thank you for reading!


	13. In which you are not supposed to judge people based on their appearance (so this is what you totally do).

“Well, a lot of schools ended up wanting to play with us,” Kurosu rubs his neck awkwardly, “That’s new.”

All of the team looks around each other awkwardly. 

You all sit on those uncomfortable, awful benches (oh, how much you want to burn them), like polite little kids before coaches. In theory, that’s it. In practice, you have your legs dangling across Atsumu’s knees, which are in turn used by Osamu as a pillow. Suna lies face down on the floor before you, not even pretending to be interested in whatever is happening, as Gintama is choking Akagi with other members you deem to be in a second year. 

Even first years don't try, as they are pulled into the heap of insanity behind you. Do they fight? Do they dance? Do they hug? Who knows. Not you for sure. The only people who look objectively normal are third years. Of all of them, you of course are the most familiar with Shinsuke, being the beauty and grace he is, Ojiro, tired mom/dad, and Omimimimi, who is a mystery yet to be unraveled.

“They simply don’t know us yet, sensei,” Atsumu smiles like an angel everybody knows he is not, “We will change it very quickly, don’t worry.”

They will throw us out the moment they see Tsumu’s ugly face,” claims Osamu and you nod seriously before Atsumu pushes him out of your knees. He falls straight into Rin, causing both of them to groan, while Atsu chuckles. 

“One school even called and _begged_ for a match,” he shrugs, “What a time to be alive.”

“Did you agree, coach?”

“No.”

The team snickers like a bunch of evil foxes. They are definitely a bunch of evil foxes, you sweatdrop. Wasn't Inari supposed to have in their service _zenko_ , the good fox spirits? Where are they? Not at the school holding their name, that's for sure.

You swing your legs lazily, still having them across Atsumu's lap.

The week passed slowly for the three of you. Nothing really interesting happened if don’t count that one time the chemistry teacher’s Molotov Cocktail blew up, giving the poor guy third-degree burns and resulting in a fire alarm. 

Your practices were pretty normal. Or as normal as your club meetings can be. You were battling with laundry, taking care of the water supply, cleaning a bit, and trying, well, _to manage_. You are not sure how good you were at it, but you tried. You deserve that golden star, damn it.

Your awful friends spent most of their time training more when they were not kidnapping or harassing you. Osa’s jump floater supposedly got better, though you didn’t understand it at all. Tsu, in his spare time, made you watch a lot of volleyball matches. Yeah, you totally didn’t pay attention and instead listened to some podcasts or play games with Sam to blond’s irritation.

On the other hand, you got closer to the rest of your teammates. 

Suna, very lazily, asked you to help him with homework in exchange for muffins. You never say _no_ to food, so you accepted that deal. Most of your breaks were now full of second-year material, but who cared? Definitely not you, as you had muffins, delicious chocolate muffins, yum. 

Shinsuke, the complete opposite of lazy Suna, was busy the whole time you acted as manager. Busy being the absolute best human being ever, that's it. He was such a sweetheart, always first to help you and asking nothing in exchange. You think Ojiro had a problem with it - he probably was worried about his friend, so you quickly assured him that you will not use Shinsuke's kindness. Your upperclassman called you as _bad as he was,_ which you took as a compliment. Your captain was not bad at all. You are pretty sure there is no mean bone in his body. 

Twitter was going crazy this week as well. Insanity never ends on Inarizaki's social media, it seems. So many new followers. Where do those people ever come from? Does Japan even have so many volleyball fans? 

It’s Saturday now, and you are finally getting a schedule for your Miyagi - Tokyo learning trip. Or rather, specifically _you_ are the one getting schedules, as you are the manager. The rest of the losers can only listen to you and coaches, and try to remember it in their small brains.

It’s rather straightforward and simple to follow. You meet at six p.m. on Sunday before the school where you take the bus (you should be shocked that Headmaster somehow didn’t get you all a fucking airplane) to Sendai, Miyagi. When you arrive you have several hours to accommodate your lodgings, before going to the gym rented by the school. The boys will practice a bit before you have your first match in the afternoon. It can’t happen earlier, because it’s, you know, weekday and some schools are not volleyball - crazy enough to let players skip lessons. Ah, how nice it is to remember that Inarizaki is insane.

Three next days look similar, the only difference being as follows: after Thursday’s match, you ride to Tokyo. The trip will take about five to six hours, but then you find yourself in the capital city of Japan in similar circumstances. Get into rooms, go to a rented gym, wait for your enemies. And then, your beautiful school decided to let you have a free day in Tokyo. You can explore, you can eat, you can do nothing, before packing into a bus on Tuesday night and returning to Amagasaki on Wednesday. You don’t even have lessons when you return. You are excused for the whole day.

One good thing coming out of this, you guess. Inarizaki may be bizarre, but it’s the best weir school. 

“Hey, who are you calling ugly, ugly?” Osamu stands up, and helps Rin up, before pointing his finger accusatively at his brother. The black-haired teen, being the total opposite of the short-tempered twin, goes for a lonely ball next to his feet.

“You both have the same face,” Suna lazily tosses said volleyball at Atsumu, who is – what a surprise – able to catch it before it hits his face. Rin grimaces, “Which means the both of you are ugly.”

“Ugly,” agrees Gintama, as he stops choking Akagi for the moment. Michinari breathes out.

“Ugly!” he adds hastily, before being choked again. Why is Gintama even trying to kill him anyway? You didn't think he was so aggressive.

“Ugly!” you giggle gleefully, ignoring attempted murder. 

Atsumu decides to force your legs out of his lap in revenge. Your joy vanishes instantly. Ugh. It was comfortable here.

“Can you stop for one moment?” asks Ojiro, being tired of you all. You are not surprised, but still. Does he expect an answer? Really. Huh. Well, you are the manager, it’s your job to destroy the dreams of your innocent teammates.

“No, and you’re stuck in this hell forever,” he sends you an incredulous glare and you giggle again, “What, you think you are safe because you’re graduating this year, Ojiro – senpai? Hahaha, _no_. We will haunt you to the end of your days.”

“I hate how confident you sound, Date – san,” he sighs as he rubs his neck.

The cuddle pile behind you of course can’t stay quiet at this, because they have no survival instincts.

“You hear so much about female managers being cute, helpful, and pretty. Why did we get stuck with the Vixen?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust and share a gaze with twins. Before any of you can answer, though, you are beaten by your steadfast ally, the most attractive person on this godforsaken planet, the captain of the volleyball team, Shinsuke Kita himself.

“I think [Name] is a perfect manager.”

There is no further escalation of cutting remarks and you grin. Is it not a natural selection at its finest? You chuckle evilly as Shinsuke sends them a glare that could probably break the defense wall made of shields. He ignores your petty joy, instead of focusing on the lowlifes that tried to talk about you behind your back. Next time, do it a little bit quieter, losers.

“Riseki, Haruno, if you two have time to talk before others’ back, how about you practice your receiving skills?”

“C- captain!”

Don’t they have more to say? B – o – r – i – n – g. You take strands of your hair and spin it around your finger as you lean back.

“Yeah, Rizekai, Haruki, how about you two fuck off?” you send them a smile and they scatter. Cue your evil laugh when they go after volleyball balls, probably deciding to practice their receives like good little first years. Shinsuke shakes his head in disapproval at their disappearing forms.

“At this point, you are doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

You blink innocently at Rin's question, as you turn your head to him.

“What I’m doing on purpose, Rin - kun?”

He exhales like he doesn’t still believe the world could probably produce that much of a moron, before sitting on the floor, just leaning at Atsumu’s legs. You laugh again, the sheer joy of talking, having friends over composing your whole figure. Is it not nice? Just sitting next to them, enjoying the banter and all.

It's not, it seems, as your coach stomps impatiently.

“Can you please pretend to listen to me? My dog never behaves this way,” Kurosu shooks his head, “Just remember, Norimune, he’s waiting at the house for you,” he nods, encouraged by his own words and you see people around you sweat a tiny bit, “So, our first match, the one on Monday, is with Aoba Johsai.” 

Monday, Aoba Johsai. 

Okay. So, you know Aoba Castle, of course, you do. It was used by Date Clan throughout history and renamed by Ieyasu Tokugawa to Sendai in 1601 or something like that, but you doubt it has a lot of relevance to the school you will be competing with. You hum before taking your phone. 

Time to ask your best uncle for help.

“Aoba Johsai. Ao-ba Joh-sai,” you type into Google, ”Huh, their uniforms are cute.”

They definitely make you jealous. So _white_. They have checked bottoms, ow, so cute! And you know, their bottoms are short and adorable, not old - fashioned one you school worship. That’s so pretty. 

You sigh, looking at more information. It is a private school in Miyagi, the website proclaims, blah, blah, blah, boring. Where are the spicy bits?

“Never heard about them," Atsumu looks at the screen of your phone before returning to being little shit, "They weren't on nationals."

“That’s because Shiratorizawa dominates Miyagi’s volleyball high school scene since Ushijima started school,” Kurosu explains patiently, “From what I saw of them, the most talented player of their team is the setter, Oikawa Tooru.”

 _Oikawa Tooru_ , you write then. Hundreds of results hit your eyes, so you decide to go into graphics instead. It’s not like you would understand volleyball – nerd – talk anyway. Huh, he doesn’t look like a volleyball player. Pretty boy, pretty boy alert.

“Is he a model?” you ask into an Abyss. Abyss is silent, so Atsumu leans in to take a look. 

“Pretty boy,” he nods his head knowingly, “Let’s _destroy_ him.”

“I don’t think he is better than Atsumu, but don’t underestimate him, trouble kids,” warns Kurosu, “He has meant looking serves.” 

Osamu raises his hand. 

“Can we exchange Tsumu with him?” he asks, “We don’t need him anyway.” 

You pop your lips, returning to more interesting things. Pretty boy, some intense boy, all in blue. Or turquoise? Huh, now, that's an important question.

“So I can kick your ass playing for another team?”

“As if you could kick anything!”

Meh, who cares. The coach said something about another school, though. You raise your finger to your lips, wondering. Miyagi has Shira - Shira - Shira - something, right? 

You look into files that coach Oomi got you, your magnificent cheat sheets. _Shiratorizawa_ , just above Aoba Johsai. Yeah, that’s it, that’s what you thought about! You were so close, hun. 

“What about Shiratorizawa? They are supposedly the best?” you question as twins fight, “And that Ushi – Ushi – Ushiyama is so good?”

You swear several people gasp as they hear your question. Hey, you can think about volleyball too!

“Ushijima. He is,” Shinsuke responds, nodding at you briefly in a nearly proud manner. You beam at him, reddening a bit, before going back to your phone. 

“Ushi – Jima. Oh, here he goes,” you blink at the actual force of nature that shows in the search engine, “Wow.”

Ushiyama doesn’t look like a teenager at all. He is in his third year, according to Google, but you can’t compare him to Shinsuke or even Aran. So many _muscles_. He could probably crush your skull in his hands. He could crush anything in his hands. 

Gods, is he a volleyball player? He just looks so _intense_. The dorks that are in your team may pretend to be serious, but they are such nerds, and he - he just has different air around him.

“I approve if you want to marry him, Atsu,” you poke him with your free hand in the cheek, “I think he is a man who would totally take care of your trash character.” 

That stops the twins’ fight, as Sam prioritizes answering you. 

“Congratulations on your engagement, Tsumu,” Osamu claps his hands, “I would say I’m proud, but I’m not.” 

“He was so young,” Suna swiftly joins in by fake - sobbing into Atsumu's leg, “I hope he is happy.” 

“Good luck on the new road, Atsumu!” cries Gintama as he ruffles the hair of the setter. Wow, when he stopped killing Akagi? You look at him and see the older boy lying half-dead on the bench beside him. 

Well, press f to pay respects. 

“I’m not marrying him,” 

Once again, the situation has to be de-escalated by your coach. He looks so tired, poor old man.

“Children,” Kurosu just shakes his head, “Ushijima is an amazing spiker, and, without question, the centerpiece of Shiratorizawa’s strategy. They have talented players, but they focus mostly on Ushijima alone. Stopping him means stopping Shiratorizawa.”

Doesn’t it sound too easy for the team that is supposedly the best in Miyagi? Okay, you don’t know much about volleyball, but the strategy is another cup of tea. 

“Stopping Ushijima – kun is not easy,” Ojiro shakes his head as if he read your mind, “His spikes are nearly legendary.”

“So we should aim for other players, destroy their morale one by one,” concludes Atsumu like the trash he is, before choosing to focus on a different subject, “What about their setter?” 

“Semi Eita represented them last year at the Interhigh, but during the Spring Tournament they changed him to Shirabu Kenjirou,” informs you all Kurosu, “Which was a strange decision, because Shirabu is a weaker setter.”

There is momentary silence as you all take it in. Changing from a better player to a worse one? That's stupid. Just plain stupid.

“You can never tell what other people think,” shrugs Omimimimimi, “They had to have their reason.”

“It’s possible they changed him because Shirabu has better chemistry with Ushiya - Ushijima,” notes Kita, “He’s their Ace, after all.”

Oh, that's pretty smart, but also sad. Little bit. Poor Semi Eita. Something flashes in your mind, and you raise your finger to your lips in silent wonder. Semi Eita, Semi Eita, why does it sound so strangely in your mind? 

You narrow your eyes, trying to understand. Semi Eita. Oh, you know what's wrong. His name is hilarious. You chuckle a little. _Semi_.

“That’s one possibility,” the coach agrees, wisely ignoring your sudden joy, “After Shiratorizawa we have Wakutani Minami.”

“They have a stupid name,” Rin comments idly, “If we lose to them, I’m going seppuku myself.” 

“Don’t joke about that, Rintarou,” orders Kita in a sharp tone and well, Rin pales, “No matter their name, they are still our opponent.” 

“But you think it’s silly?” you point up, “Because it fucking is, let’s be honest.” 

Shinsuke doesn’t answer and you giggle when he remains silent, before shooting a gaze to Rintarou. As he smiles at you, Ojiro facepalms and whispers something that sounds like _whipped cream_? _Little finger_? Huh? Is he hungry or talking about some kind of kink right now?

“Got ‘em,” Rin raises his hand to, and you high five him immediately, forgoing all your thoughts. 

You. Just. High. Fived. Someone! And it was not Osamu or Atsumu! Oh gods, oh demons, oh flying spaghetti monster. Thank you all for making it possible. 

You giggle again, a little bit embarrassed, as your cheeks become warmer. Rin blinks at you in surprise, just looking at you with, huh? Amazement? What? As you try to discern his emotions, his expression changes before you can understand it. Atsumu kicks him in the back and he instantly becomes so _whiny_. You snort, amused.

“Pervert,” he accuses the black-haired to your confusion.

“Trash,” answers in kind Rin, actually refusing to meet your gaze for a second. 

Huh. You look down. Is your shirt translucent or something? No. Then why did Atsumu call him a pervert? Wait, wait, wait. You probably shouldn’t think about it. You can’t understand the demon’s mind after all. 

“They have a strong defense," Kurosu decides to continue, "Their receives are solid, and their offense is interesting. Their ace likes to ricochet his hits out of the blocks.”

“Wipes? Good luck doing that to Suna,” comes the voice of Gintama, “I feel nearly sorry for them already.”

“Please don’t depend on me at all,” the said player whines in the feet of Atsumu, “Omimi should be one to deal with them.” 

“We will leave it to you then,” chirps Akagi, “Good luck, Rintarou!” 

Oh, he is alive. The second years sit like normal human beings. Wow. Such development! You shouldn't probably feel as proud as you do, but meh.

“Next we have Date Tech.”

You blink. Date? Date? Date? Masamune Date, your mind sings, He was the founder of Sendai, so such a name shouldn't be so surprising or amusing, but. You are Date as well.

“Did you agree to play with them only because we have a manager with the same name?” questions Osamu, having the same thoughts as you. He is completely serious, you know.

“No.”

He totally did. You share mischievous grins with twins.

“Does it mean I legally own this school?” you jump in excitement, thinking about how much chaos you can cause, “I can order them around?”

“Here comes our Princess,” Atsumu pats your cheek affectionately. You bat his hand away in irritation and he grins cheekily at that. 

“Make them beg for mercy, honey,” Osa agrees with, sending you a tender smile you cannot help, but return. 

“We’re trying to get them killed, aren’t we?” Rin muses to nobody in particular, “Sicking the head bitch at them.”

“I’m not _head bitch_ !” you interject violently, “I’m the _big boss bitch_!” 

“You shouldn’t call her that, Suna,” Ojiro goes after you, but he blinks, confused as he hears your word, “Wait, this is what you are angry about?!” 

“Duh!” you shrug your shoulders, "Head bitch sounds so much lamer."

You bob your head. Down and back. Down and back. As you stop your gesture, you happen to catch Shinsuke's gaze. He doesn't avoid your stare, instead of looking at you in a nearly affectionate manner.

“I doubt they would listen to you, [Name],” he shakes his head, and as you pout at his words, a small sigh leaves his mouth, “If you want to try, be sure to bring somebody with you.”

You cheer up instantly. Was he worried about you? Aww. You will take somebody with you. You will mock the hell out of the school that was now officially named after you.

“They are known as _The Iron Wall_ of Miyagi for their excellent blockers,” coach Oomi continues, ignoring you all, “I believe they have nothing next to our Suna. Their offensive power is practically non-existent.” 

“Please don’t depend on me so much,” Rin again whines, “I can’t do everything by myself.” 

“You just have to stop lazing about,” coach is ruthless, “It’s not like your will to live will drop any further.” 

“Savage,” chuckles Osamu, “Definitely deserved that one, Rin - kun.”

“The Iron Wall, huh,” you smile to Ojiro, “It sounds like _the Iron Curtain_. The one in Germany has fallen in 1989. Let’s follow history with this one as well.”

He smiles at that.

“Thanks, Date – san. That's a little bit encouraging."

Kurosu decides to move on, turning several pages of his notepad over.

“And that takes care of all Miyagi’s matches. Next, we have Tokyo. Date, can you?”

You look at the schedule. Where is your schedule? Fuck, it has fallen off the bench. Probably Atsumu's fault. Everything is his fault. You lean down to pick it up.

“Yup yup. On the first day, we will play with Itachiyama,” you puff your cheeks as you read the name, “Itachi? Itachi Uchiha! Their secret is Sharingan, is it not?!” sighs reverberate across the gym, but you focus on something different, as Atsumu’s hair catches your attention, “Your roots are showing, Atsu.”

“So soon? I dyed my hair last week," he touches his head unsurely, "It's such a pain to do it over again."

“It was three weeks ago," deadpans Osamu and you nod furiously. You always helped them with dyeing as they were awful at it, "The whole bathroom was in the dye, gross.”

It was. But to be fair, Osamu was the one who started the fight with dyes.

“You are the one who is gross, Samu!" shouts instantly back at Atsumu, "You dye your hair as well!”

“Can you three focus?” coach Kurosu has enough already, how is he going to live through the week? “Itachiyama has Sakusa, one of the best spikers in Japan. We played against them last year, but some of you didn’t have a chance to attend that match.”

At that, both SamSam and TsuTsu straighten their backs and share a serious gaze over your head. Huh. Sakusa? Sakusa? You heard about him somewhere.

“I and Samu played against him in middle school, though,” says the blond, “He sucks.”

“I agree,” Osamu shakes his head, “Ugh. I hate to agree with you, Tsumu.” 

Okay, he has to be a disaster if they agree on this. You dislike him already.

“Then we have Komori,” coach ignores them yet again, “The one who got the best libero award last year. Let’s not forget their setter and captain, Iizuna.”

“He’s a good setter,” Kita’s voice sounds strangely softly, “Not good enough to be at the same level as Atsumu and Osamu.”

Sneak attack. Was super effective. Atsumu nearly shrieks, as he translates Shinsuke’s words in his mind, as Osamu’s face blush furiously. 

“I’m not crying!” Atsumu hides his face into your shoulder, “Stupid ninjas and their onions.”

Osamu, not having where to hide, slides next to you and does the same to your second shoulder. You pat him gently on the head, as your second hand is working on something different. Sakusa. Itachi - Yama. Yeah, there you go. 

You flinch as your eyes meet those of the boy on the graphic. First of all, the school has a truly atrocious color scheme. It’s a crime against humanity that this thing exists. Second of all, what the fuck. 

“Sakura looks like a murderer,” you tell your team, still watching the image, “I’m calling it. In five years we will hear about all of his victims. He’s a type who tortures kittens as well.”

You don’t want to sound rude, okay, that’s a lie, you do. You can’t help it, though. The lanky teenager you see maybe one of the Four Apocalypse Horsemen. His curly, black hair looks surprisingly gentle, but that’s the only soft thing about him. He’s all edge, all dark, all brood. 

“Please call him that to his face,” whispers meekly Atsumu, who is not crying at all. Yup, not being super happy because his underclassman praised him. You pat his head. Crybaby. Stupid crybaby. 

He wants you to call him a murderer to his face? Yeah, that could be super fun, if he didn’t, you know, murder you in retaliation. You roll your eyes, before going into the searcher once again. Komori. Itachiyama. Click, click, click.

What the fuck does he have on his face? Seriously, are those supposed to be his eyebrows? Does he even go to a stylist? They look as if he tried to do them himself. With his eyes closed and with 

“Komornik has funny eyebrows," you tell them, being the old, wise sage imparting his wisdom on young children, "Try to not look at them in the match, because you will start laughing.”

That would be awkward if they lost because they were laughing so much. Your wonderful advice is met with several sighs. The only person who seems to take you seriously is Rin, who lazily raises his hand in your direction. 

“Show me?” he asks you, and who are you to refuse? You stretch your hand, handing him your phone. 

Isn’t that, like, super intimate? It is. You don’t give your phone to everybody. Which means you are friends. You beam at that thought. Friend. Being a friend of Rintarou Suna sounds fun. He gazes at the photograph of Komornik calmly, before he nods, returning your phone. 

“Don’t they make you think of beetles?” he questions, and you look back at your phone. Do they? Oh god, they do. 

Scary. Disgusting. The shiver runs through your spine. 

“Fuck me, they do,” you murmur, “They will start to move, won’t they? Maybe that’s his secret weapon, his eyebrows just eat their opponents.”

“Now I’m afraid of this game,” Suna raises his hand as if he was in the classroom, “Coach, coach, can I sit this one out?”

“You two are awful people,” Ojiro decides, sweat dripping from his forehead, “Please, ignore them.”

“No way in hell, Suna,” coach Oomi smiles, as if he didn’t just destroy all of Rin’s dream, “We all suffer together.”

“No, no, no, that’s okay. Please, disrupt me more. Wonderful advice, I see why you have become our manager,” Kurosu deadpans and you blush a little. Hey, that was important to note! He clears his throat, stopping you from talking and returning to the subject at hand, “Both defense and offense are top-notch. There is a reason why they are called the best in Japan.”

“Destroy them,” Atsumu whispers into your shoulder, “Leave no man left alive.”

“I will bring matches,” you promise him, thinking about how to burn 

“I have gasoline,” Osamu adds, taking a bite of his candy bar. You wish you had one too, but you shouldn’t think about food right now. 

You have a school to burn. 

You plot your first crime. Not that you didn’t plan something similar before. The three of you like fire, but you never actually burnt any building down. Yet. So, this will be technically your first crime! Yay. 

“The next day in Tokyo is Nohebi," Kurosu ignores you all, continuing to drone on, "They are much of a team like ours,” you blink. Are they are full of homicidal idiots? “They like to use feints and distraction. They demean their enemies, and try to get under opponents’ skin.”

“This is nothing we should worry about then,” Akagi bobs his head, “We have demonic twins at our side.”

“Not to talk about Suna, who with his stares alone takes away the joy people feel,” adds Gintama as he high fives libero.

“Let’s not forget about Kita’s _facts and logic_ ,” Suna struts along, sending them finger guns, “He is the most powerful of all us.”

Kita clears his throat as his team gaze at him with respect and adoration.

“That’s objectively not true,” he shakes his head, “Aran has better –“

Your team's ace laughs before he throws his arm around his friend, not letting him finish.

"Don’t be so humble, Shinsuke. Just accept the compliment!”

“He is right!” you clap your hands, “You’re the best and it hurts us very much you don’t think better about yourself.”

The captain reddens visibly under your friendly gaze and tries to hide his face into his arm. That’s _adorable_. He can't take praise at all. Just like your still crying friends. You grin at him in the most tender way you can, and he reddens even more.

“Ekhem, next day, Tokyo. Date?”

You quickly collect yourself as you glare into the schedule.

“Fukurodani?” you ask hesitantly as the words before you are really, really small.

“Yes, Fukurodani,” the coach nods, before going into lecture mode, “Their main power is Bokuto Koutaro, fantastic spiker and their ace that can rival Aran. You shouldn’t ignore the rest of their team, though. They are a highly offensive team.”

Fukurodani. That's. That's interesting. What's with Tokyo and all those animal names anyway? You yawn, as you write the name into the search bar. You blink slowly. Huh? So many results. Graphic tab, then. The man-boy on your screen is interesting to say at least. His hair, is it dyed? Is it natural? It’s so strange. Like, Shinsuke had a little bit similar one, but he was more graceful and elegant. Black and white, the same colors. Not ombre, oh no. It is intervened in the most insane combination ever, spiky and chaotic. 

You can’t help it. You have to show it to Rin. Not fighting that particular urge, you poke him in the shoulder before leaning in to show your phone. 

“Is it natural?” he asks as soon as his gaze rests on Bokutani. Hey, great minds think alike! Yay, he nods, as if reading your mind, “That can’t be.” 

“What sort of sadist of the stylist would do something like that?” you wonder about Tokyo’s wonders, “It’s so spiky. Do you think he uses a lot of gel?”

“He has to,” he agrees with, “Or he completely defies laws of gravity,” he narrows his eyes on your screen, “Are his eyes gold?” 

You instantly focus on the photo.

“Oh my god, they are,” you gasp in shock. That can’t be natural as well, what the fuck, “That had to be the contacts, right?” 

Yes, like, Atsumu and Osamu’s eyes are all amber-like, with blond’s being the one you could call gold. The thing is, that was the way in particular lights. Sometimes their irises were brown, sometimes more honey-colored. Bokutani’s eyes seem to be constantly gold. That’s wild. 

Rin doesn’t answer, as Kurosu clears his throat, trying to get your attention. It works, but he probably knows it will not last for a long time, so he just starts speaking again. 

“The last is Nekoma, the so-called powerhouse of the old,” he changes the subject and the team looks around in confusion. You simply gaze into your cheat sheet, and yeah, there they are, Nekoma, Kitten - school, “Old Nekomata is coaching them again, and he was the one to persuade me to this match,” he shivers as he explains, “I hate him.”

You google them, because that’s what you do, duh. You google shit. There is not so much at them, so you grimace, going straight to the graphic section. You find what you think is a volleyball team, all wearing red. The person who catches your attention the most is a rather mild-looking kid with a blond ombre on his black hair. That’s a really cool combination, huh. A little bit like sunflower, a little bit like pudding. Gee, you would love to have a pudding now. You blink, wanting to shift to Osamu so you can complain, but someone else catches your attention. 

You feel your breath getting stolen. Just next to Sunflower stands a much taller boy with beautiful, beautiful black hair. His eyes are brown, it seems, not grey, but he looks just like a member of the Uchiha Clan. Oh my god. He would make great Madara cosplay. 

Who are you kidding? He would make Sasuke cosplay effortlessly as well. 

“More than us?” Atsumu lifts definitely – not – tears – soaked face, “That’s possible?”

“Yes, more than you. Be sure to disintegrate them, trouble kids,” he frowns, “Nekomata always is more focused on defense, so expect a lot of good blockers and masterful receives. That’s all of them. I will send your videos of their matches tomorrow and we will study some of them when we ride. Any questions?”

You immediately raise yours, forgetting all about Uchihas. One question was on your mind and it’s not about Fukurodani’s ace hair this time. 

“I’m going to regret it, am I not? Yes, Date?”

“Why all of Tokyo’s schools are named after animals? It is some sort of capital fashion? Should we call ourselves Kitsunezaki when we are in Tokyo?”

The team groans.

“Yeah, that’s on me. I put the bar too low. Any intelligent questions?”

* * *

“How will you deal with being on the bus for ten hours, Sam – chan?”

The three of you find yourself at your apartment, Osamu and Atsumu assisting you in packing up. So, yeah, practically just shoving random clothes into your bag as Osamu tries to fold them and Atsumu just throws them without even looking.

“I will try very hard not to look at Tsumu,” answers your friend lazily, trying to avoid staring at his brother. Atsumu only shrugs, “If I don’t see him, maybe I will not get nauseous.”

“I can’t believe you are sixteen and still have motion sickness,” Tsu sighs, “You little brat.”

You throw your shampoo at Atsumu. He doesn’t dodge in time and the bottle hits him straight into the chest. He frowns before just putting it into your suitcase.

“Don’t be an asshole, that’s not his fault,” you say, “I have some medicine for it, but, you know. What if it doesn’t work? What if it's the wrong kind and Osa – chan ends up poisoned? What if I kill him unintentionally? I don’t want to be accused of manslaughter.”

“Yeah, it is,” he grins, “His weak-ass body’s fault.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Hey – hey, not over my shoes,” you find yourself standing before twins, trying to separate them, “This is the war room, gentlemen. We don’t fight here!”

“Your war room is _pink._ ”

You gasp audibly, shocked, appalled, and dismayed. Your day is ruined. You slap Atsumu hard - or as hard as you can - at the back. He doubles down, but not in pain, but laughter. You send a disbelieving gaze to Osamu. 

_Is he seeing this shit_? You cross your arms around your chest and puff your cheeks. 

“Are you questioning my fashion choices, Lieutenant?” you ask him harshly.

Osamu kicks him when he is not able to answer due to laughter.

“Hey, Tsumu, don’t die like that,” he deadpans, “It’s pathetic.” 

“Pathetic,” you reiterate to maximize your point. 

Atsumu doesn’t care about the two of you and just laugh, laugh, laugh, and you start to become concerned.

“Hey, Tsu!” 

“Maybe he’s going insane?” your best friend tilts his head, “We know it was going to happen sometime.”

“I’m - I’m questioning the existence of said fashion in your choices,” he finally stumbles over his words, “General.”

You groan, rolling your eyes.

“Just don’t fight next to my beauties, you lunatics.”

“I’m not lunatic, honey,” disagrees Osamu, “He was the one who started to laugh out of nowhere.”

You step back, going over to your wardrobe again. The twins shrug, before partying away back to their tasks.

“H - hey, Samu, it was not out of nowhere, you jerk,” Atsumu waves his twin off, still fighting the laughter, “L - like she is always acting so tough, but in reality… Her slaps don’t hurt at all.”

You stop in your tracks and very, very slowly turn to Atsumu. 

The surge of fury is overflowing your veins. Your anger is so profound, you are pretty sure there has to be foam coming from your mouth. 

“I’m going to murder you.”

“I - I know you are, sunshine.” 

You take the nearest items - shoes, books, clothes, you don’t care - and start hurling them in the direction of one twin. Well, but the other stands just next to him. They never were the ones to fall on their knees and surrender, so pretty soon you have to dodge and run, as they start their attack. 

The battle begins and chaos reigns over your small apartment.

You don’t know for how long you go, just chuckling random stuff at each other, getting bruises in the most stupid way ever, or completely trashing your room. You are starting to breathe heavily and feel the sweat on your back, but you would rather die than surrender.

And then somebody - it could be you, it could be Osamu, it could be Atsumu - shouts.

“The floor is lava!”

What do the three of you do?

Well, Atsumu jumps into your coffee table, spilling water from cups, and nearly trampling on dirty dishes. Osamu somehow climbs on your shelf, throwing all of your books on the floor. You end up laying on the drawer, holding to your chest a nearly killed laptop for your dear life. 

There is silence, as the three of you - hell, you look the most tired of all of you, of fucking course - glare at each other.

“Why do you even need so many shoes?” comes Atsumu’s question. 

“Because they are pretty, duh,” you respond and the two get into the stupidest argument ever. 

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re stupider.”

“And you’re the stupidest.”

“Truly, what a conversation,” Osamu sighs loudly, “The intelligence is practically flowing out of you, Tsumu.” 

“What about [Name], Samu? Nevermind, why I’m asking. We’re standing on the furniture because somebody said that the floor is lava,” Atsumu shrugs, a mischievous grin appearing on his face, “Your argument is invalid.” 

The silver head doesn’t even look at him in the answer, yawning profoundly. 

You contemplate all of your life choices that led to this point. Both of the twins don’t have any deeper thought, as they start to engage in conversation. Or you thought they would not go for anything deepening, because your circumstances are well, not ideal at the best. Why continue to just be on furniture? That’s stupid. But you still don’t move anyway.

“You still going with this nickname?

“What nickname?”

“Honey.”

“I like honey. I like [Name],” he shifts his weight, uncomfortable at your shelf as he looks at you, “Do you mind, honey?” 

“Nope!” you are quick to answer, “I think it’s very sweet.”

“You are so embarrassing,” Tsu sighs, covering his face in his hands. 

Embarrassing? He is saying this awful a lot, isn’t he? Is something wrong? You try to discern the feelings, but you are unable to. Mostly because of his fucking hand. Bitch. 

“No, you are one embarrassing me,” cuts in Osamu, sharply, probably not liking the way this conversation is turning, “What the hell is wrong with you, asshole?” 

“What with you getting so flustered, Atsu?” you hold over the laptop lessen and you finally let it go next to you. Your lip quirks as an awful conclusion arrive in your head, “Are - _are you ashamed of me_?”

“Of course not!” he denies hastily, his eyes going all over the place, panicking, “Never, don’t even think like that, my sunshine,” he pleads, his voice soft. But you can’t just let it go like that. 

If something is not right, you should talk about it. You furrow your eyebrows. 

“Then what’s the fuck?” 

He rubs his neck anxiously. 

“Well, you know how everybody says our relationship is strange?”

What? This is what this is about? That’s - that’s stupid. You don’t like this at all. He claims he doesn’t feel ashamed, but - maybe at some level, unconsciously so, he does? You always were like that, though. Very, very close, not step behind each other. 

The last year just cemented your relationship. 

“You believed them?” Osamu finds his tongue first, “Wow, Tsumu, you’re so dumb.”

“Yeah,” you add softly, “You dumb - ass.” 

Both you and Osamu exchange a gaze, before you launch yourself at the older twin, abandoning your places. He falls, and screams, not expecting it, but neither you nor Samu cares at this point. You both end up on top of him as powerful noise goes around the apartment. You embrace him, as does Osamu, creating a little cuddle pile amongst clothes, shoes, cosmetics, and all of that mess. 

“Why should we care what others think about us anyway?” you say into his shoulder, “We’re the ones in this relationship, right? We’re best friends.”

“Don’t you dare quit on us, Tsumu,” Osamu pats his cheek, “You are supposed to be the oldest, so why are acting like a kid?”

“Yeah, yeah!” you nod aggressively, “We’re planning to together burn Sendai and Tokyo, don’t we? Or maybe drown it? So what’s a little bit of physical affection between partners in crime?”

“You are both idiots,” accuses Atsumu, but returns your embrace nonetheless, “We’re all now laying in lava, you know.”

* * *

Somebody: _talks shit about MC_

Shinsuke: Aran hold my volleyball

Aran: I got your volleyball bro go kick their asses

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Wow, what’s that? A chapter talking about volleyball in MY FIC? It’s more likely than you think. So, yeah, that’s more of the team bonding by shitting at others. There goes our schedule. We play with Aoba Johsai, Shiratorizawa, Wakatuni, and Date in Miyagi, and Itachiyama, Nohebi, Fukurodani, and Nekoma in Tokyo. No Karasuno, as at this point, they are still fallen powerhouse. They are just getting Noya and Asahi back, but our crows will appear, don’t worry!

It’s going to be so funny, guys. Oikawa, who is not on our simp list yet is first. Atsumu vs Oikawa y’all. It’s going to be wild.

It’s dialogue-heavy and full of exposition, but I feel like the coach would know a little about the team they play against. Also, MC commenting on some of her future suitors. She has great first impressions, doesn’t she?

Hope you enjoyed it anyway! Stay safe everybody and have a wonderful day!


	14. In which you sing and think of blueberry cupcakes (and maybe are murdered).

"We’re late,” you moan, “Of course we’re late. How could we not be late?”

"That’s Samu’s fault,” Atsumu accuses, before trying to imitate his twin, “ _Oh, but should I pack more sweets? How about more packs of chips? I forgot some onigiri, wait a minute._ ”

“How do you expect me to choose just one of them, Tsumu?!” Osamu shouts with indignation in his voice, “And that’s my jacket, by the way! Who let you borrow it?!”

They should just use this energy to run faster, but it’s not like you can voice this thought. You are not that _ungrateful_. As you three saw the time, you hastily got out of the twins' house, keyed the door, and started running. Or rather, Miya brothers started running as Osamu took your baggage, while Atsumu quite literally picked you up. This time at least you didn’t land on his shoulder.

So, yeah, he is holding you in a bridal - carry across Amagasaki. Normally you would be super embarrassed, but that way you don’t actually have to exhaust yourself, so you just lean back and complain aloud. Someone has to do it, as a person with the most brain cells, that honor belongs to you. 

“I – I would give it back!”

“You liar!”

You would love to start singing something as they dash to the school’s parking lot, but you have no idea what, so you just start to intone some random chase sequence from an action film. It doesn’t seem to make your circumstances any cooler, so you can say without any doubt in the mind: TV lied to you.

"Hey, [Name], did you get your toothpaste by the way?" Osamu asks you, "I swear I saw you leave it behind!"

You want to facepalm, but fight that urge off. Yeah, your toothpaste is so important. Even if you didn’t take it, you can buy it. Is there a great toothpaste deficit in Japan? You don’t think so. 

"Fuck, should it matter now?" you cry, "It's already ten minutes after eight!"

"Just making sure!"

You sigh. The twins continue to run, finally reaching the school. And you see a very irritated Kurosu, waiting for you with an impatient glow to his skin.

“Hello, my cause for early retirement,” greets you coach Kurosu when you finally reach your destination, “Nice of you to finally join us.”

“H – hi, coach,” Atsumu breathes heavily before he sets you down.

You claim your place on the ground as gracefully as you can – that’s to say, not gracefully at all, stumbling a bit before finding your footing. Both of your friends look sweaty, but not so much worse for wear, so your gaze swiftly shifts to the bus you are supposed to embark on.

Fuck.

 _Stupid rich school._ The godforsaken vehicle looks like something straight out of the planet. You would think it’s for some celebrities or, you don’t know, candidates for the Prime Minister’s position, not a bunch of teenagers. The bus is sleek and black with tinted windows. The most noticeable, though, are of course huge letters signaling the passengers are from _Inarizaki High Volleyball Team._ Really, this is straight off flexing on others. 

Do your teachers have absolutely no shame at all?

“It’s not like we’re very late,” Osamu shifts his weight awkwardly, “But I guess I apologize for our tardiness or something?” 

“I’m proud of you,” the coach nods, “That’s nearly what a decent person would say.”

“I’m nearly a decent person, what an honor. Thank you, sensei,” Osamu yawns, before taking Atsu’s bags from his twin’s hands. 

Osamu moves to still open the luggage compartment and places both your and his baggage carefully. After which he hurls Tsumu’s bags in the most sloppily way possible. You should see this coming, but his action makes you giggle nonetheless. Atsumu instantly gazes at you with a strange glint in his eyes and you only slap him gently on the cheek in the answer.

“Fucking A-okay, we’re good to go!” Osamu returns to you with an expression far too happy, “We can go now.” 

“Samu, you bastard,” Atsumu takes his twin by the collar of the shirt, “You know I have important things here!” 

He starts to shake him aggressively around, so you take a step back, not wanting to get hit with the whole human body. 

“You should think about this before you take my jacket,” Osamu is entirely collected, he even sticks his tongue out and moves his fingers into a peace sign. 

Your friends are so adorable, you just can’t. You start to giggle.

“So, so, so cute,” you coo at them, “You get along so well!” 

They both look at you and tilt their heads in confusion. 

“I can’t believe the aliens kidnapped and replaced [Name],” says dramatically Atsumu, finally releasing his brother, “And we didn’t even see it.” 

“Requiescat in pace, [Name],” Osamu clasps his hands in prayer, as he closes his eyes, “We will miss you, honey.” 

You stomp on the ground, feeling a little, tiny bit, just tad irritated. 

“Aliens don’t fucking kidnap people if they even exist, you uneducated orangutans,” you nearly spit out, “There’s no scientific evidence to - “ 

“Oh, she’s back,” Atsumu slaps your back and you growl.

“Let’s go to this bus before I commit genocide,” you push your unruly hair away from eyes, "I’m exhausted already.”

“Hey, we were the ones that were running!” 

“Sucks to be you.”

“I can’t believe Date has said something with sense,” your coach says, clearing his throat, before blinking at your three incredulously, “Wait, are the three of you in pajamas? Is that some new fashion I will never understand?”

Indeed you are. The three of you actually just threw jackets on your nightwear and shoes. It’s very comfy in it and you are looking for a long, long journey. Okay, not super long, but spending ten to twelve hours, if not more thanks to the traffic, on the bus sucks. Even if the bus is ridiculously luxurious. 

“You are such an old man, Kurosu - sensei,” Osamu sighs before finally heading in. 

“Hey, Samu, shove off people out of our seats!” directs Atsumu, before looking at you expectantly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” comes the tired voice of the second twin, “I got this.” 

“We are efficient,” you nod seriously, “That way we don’t have to change to sleep. Impressed, Kurosu – sensei?”

He closes his eyes, trying to calm down and get some sort of resemblance of peace of mind. Probably by imagining his cute puppy.

“You spend too much time with Suna,” he finally decides, before directing his hand at the bus.

You snicker before finally climbing into the vehicle. And if you thought it was ridiculous outside? Do you even want to think about how it’s in? Black seats look like they were stolen from a five-star hotel. Minibar, excuse me, sir, you are all underage. TV is _better_ than yours. And there's a red light. 

There it goes. Your last fuck. It goes away, never to be seen again. You are now literally out of fucks left to give. You take a deep breath before you twaddle inside. You pass Shinsuke sitting with Ojiro and beam at them before Atsu shoves you forward. You see Akagi, you see Omimimimimi, you see - not a lot of people you know. 

Osamu is already at your chosen place, the back of the bus where you can sit together. In theory, there are five seats here, but half of the bus is pretty much empty, so it’s not like somebody will care. 

Not every member of the team was able to get into your exclusive and prestigious trip. There are some first years like Rizekai and Haruno, fuckers, but the bus is mostly filled with second and third years. Before the backseat sits - or rather lies pathetically on two seats - Suna Rintarou, who boringly looks at the roof. Across him, there’s a second year you don’t know with Gintama. They don’t seem to care that Miya menaces and you decided to sit just next to them. 

Throwing your bag with snacks and the important things at the feet, you take off your shoes, cross your legs, and sit comfortably next to the window. Osamu, who is going to be dying from motion sickness very soon, sits next to another window, while Atsumu shamelessly just lies down on your knee, fist feet touching Osamu’s laps, the king of his castle. 

“Fucker,” his twin comments. 

Atsumu only sticks his tongue out and well, your journey begins.

...

Yeah, it takes exactly one minute for all of you to grow bored. The bus didn’t even leave Inarizaki’s parking lot. New record! Should you be proud? Probably not.

“Are you vomiting yet, Samu?” Atsumu asks lazily, his smile full of arrogance and roguish charm. 

“Fuck off,” his twin answers politely, pointily trying to not look at golden-eyed. 

Blond waits for the whole three seconds.

“Are you vomiting now, Samu?”

“I will throw you out of the window.”

“Try.”

You see SamSam moving, taking Atsumu by foot and pulling him towards the said window. Tsu tries to hold into you, but you ruthlessly slap his hands away, abandoning him to his miserable fate. And so you continue to watch them trying to murder each other, changing your position a bit - now you’re hugging your knees, smiling widely. 

Suna rises like a mummy, leaning onto the back of his seat with a face of absolute disdain. You flutter your fingers at him in a poor attempt to wave in some distinguished manner. He frowns at you, before glaring into fighting twins. Oh, wow, Osamu just got his jacket back by forcing it out of his twin. 

“You have awoken me from my slumber. Don’t take the only joy of my life away,” he begs in a dead voice, “Sleeping is preparation for the death that awaits us all.”

“Are you okay, dude?” Gintama asks hesitantly, leaning out of his seat. 

“No,” he answers, “Please let me look at the roof in silence.” 

“Calm down there, Nietzsche,” you voice your opinion, “You would be super bored in no time.”

His eyes become a little bit sharper, as he looks nearly insulted by your words. 

“Actually, I like Schopenhauer’s philosophy much more. I would like you to retract your statement, please, and thank you.”

“Fuck no,” you answer, “I’m bored.”

“Me too,” cries Atsumu from below Osamu, “You are so boring, Samu.”

“You’re talking like that because you’re losing!”

“You jerk!”

They start fighting again. Who would have thought? 

“Are they trying to make out or something?” questions the – person – near – Gintama. You really should learn his name sometime. Maybe. No. Probably not. He is still on your shit list, after all. Did he even apologize? 

“Maybe,” you start tapping your fingers on your knees, “Who knows? Who cares? I’m bored. Hey, hey, Rin – kun, let’s do something fun.”

“We still didn’t leave Kobe,” Gintama notes. He is promptly ignored, just like he deserves. Suna sighs deeply, as his light eyes meet you. 

“Why are you looking at me?” he asks you. You smile cheerfully at that. 

“We’re friends,” you chirp, nearly bouncing on your seat. 

“No,” he tells you very slowly, very deliberately. You don’t take it as the answer, though, crossing your arms around the chest and putting your foot down. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Osamu shouts as he kicks Atsumu, “You’re her friend now. Deal with this.”

Suna looks to him, to you, and then to Atsumu before bringing his phone next to his face. He starts to write something on it, and before you can ask, he opens his mouth. 

“How do I unfriend someone in real life?” 

You throw your hands into the air. What a bitch. 

“Murder,” you propose instantly, “But if I die, nobody will make your homework.” 

Ever so slowly Suna starts to go back to his not - so - secret hideout, leaning further and further down until he completely disappears behind his seat.

“You can’t hide, Rin - kun!” you cry, “Our friendship is much stronger than that! You will never escape!” 

He doesn’t answer. Bitch. Your boredom returns, so you move your gaze to twins. They are still fighting, completely ignoring you are dying. Literal dying. You want to do something fun. Well, time to get your friends on the task. 

“Tsu - chan, Sam - chan, bored,” you crawl into their fighting pit, trying to get their attention, “Let’s do something fun.”

Surprisingly, they stop at your voice. They let go of each other and your fighting pile becomes an awkward group hug. You take a moment to correct yourself and sit like a normal, human being. 

“So,” Osamu fixes his shirt as he hides the jacket Atsumu hijacked behind his back, “What can we do?” 

“We can play Uno, I guess,” his brother comments idly, eyes still focused on said cloth.

You shake your head. 

“We will kill each other over Uno.”

Uno, is, after all, a very serious business. It’s not simply a game. It’s an art. It’s a sport. It’s everything good in the world. And well, you are too competitive over it. And over monopoly. Over every game to be honest. 

“Yeah, you don’t fuck with Uno,” admits Osamu, “And Tsumu likes to cheat at it.”

“That’s not true, you’re just a sore loser!” 

“Don’t look at my jacket like that, your asshole.” 

“I will give it back when we arrive! What I’m supposed to wear now?” 

“You should think about it before you took it!” 

“No Uno for us,” you lament, “Something else?” 

“The floor is lava,” comes Rin’s voice. 

“We legally are not allowed to stand up,” Gintama tries to still have his sanity preserved. 

“Yay, everybody wins.”

“Okay, kids!” comes coach Oomi’s voice, “Did you see the videos we send you earlier? About your opponents?"

“Yes, sir!” 

“Yup!” 

“The libero works as a setter as well. Their setter's spikes and serves are powerful."

“In short, their setter is mean.”

“But ours is meaner.”

"I can't believe there's something he is good for."

“Hey, Tsumu, they love you,” points out Osamu, “Do you hear them? All chanting your name, because you're an asshole."

“They praise me way too much,” Atsumu responds, smiling cheerfully, “I’m going to blush! Give me more.”

“You suck.”

“We all suck.”

“That’s deep, Rin - kun,” you nod, “Indeed, we all suck. What doesn’t suck? Who doesn’t? How do you even don’t suck?” 

“I can’t deal with you,” coach Oomi shooks his head, “I’m going to sleep. Norimune - san?” 

“Don’t count on me, I’m grieving! My poor Momo-chan left alone…”

“Didn’t you leave him with your wife, coach?”

“All alone…” 

You all sweat a little bit. Well, there goes your film. What else can you do? Watch a movie? Cry a little? Sleep. Boring. What else, what else, what else? Huh. 

“Karaoke?” 

That's a perfect idea. Why didn't you think about it before? You actually _can_ sing. Could. You used to sing and well, you are not trying to be showing up, but your voice is pretty good. You were a member of the choir, won some competitions and all that shit. 

“That’s the worst idea ever,” Atsumu nods seriously, “Let’s do it.” 

“Let’s go with _Hamilton_!” you demand, “Or with _the Six_. O, o, how about _the Heathers_?!”

“Why would we go with musicals?” 

“Because musicals are super cool?”

“Yeah, then let’s sing _High School Musical_.” 

“Fuck you, RinRin!” 

“RinRin?” he gasps in fake insult, “That’s even grosser than _Rin - kun_!” 

“Okay, RinRin!” 

"We can’t even agree on the song.”

“We can’t even agree on a genre.” 

“Children, children, children,” comes Atsumu’s confident voice, “There is one song we can all agree it’s the best.” 

“Fuck you, we will not sing Despacito,” you respond quickly, “My neighbor is still playing it out at two a.m.”

“Fucker,” Osamu agrees, “Why didn’t we burn his apartment down?” 

“Because it’s in my apartment complex?”

“Valid point.”

There is a momentary silence.

“ _We_ ,” you start hesitantly. 

Atsumu and Osamu instantly understand as people who grew up with you.

“ _Will_ ,” Osamu casually adds. 

“ _Rock_ ,” Atsumu is excited, is he not? 

“ _You,_ ” you all end at the same time and share a smile. 

It’s not a pleasant smile.

You all serve a single purpose: to alleviate boredom. By all means necessary. Someone may end up deaf. Someone may end insane. Someone may die. But. At least, you will be entertained. Osamu goes to his phone to find the soundtrack. Atsumu throws finger guns at you, and so you take it as a cue to start first. 

You wait a moment before you start to rhythmically clap hands. Rin comes back from his bunker and _pales_. Gintama groans. His friend facepalms. Several heads turn in their seats to look at the scene the three of you create. You should be embarrassed, shouldn’t you? It's a bus full of people, looking at you, waiting for your words, for you to sing. It makes you think of another time, another world, another life. 

Before middle school. 

Before everything. 

Before the world fell you used to stand on the stage, microphone in front of you, people’s eyes tracking your every moment. You never backed down. Never surrendered. You used to be a star in the sky, the one who shined the brightest on the stage. 

You won. Time and again, you won. Your parents used to be so proud. 

You sang and sang, your voice echoing through the chamber. Angelic, worshipped your teachers. Wonderful, told you, spectators. _The winner,_ juries announced. It was everything. You remember your parents' smiles. You remember as they stopped to smile. Sing, sing, sing, they demanded. If not at stage, the in the club. Your only worth is your voice. 

You remember your brother’s sneer. He was older, so much older. More jaded. More bitter. _Disgusting_ , he called you again and again. _Don’t do this, don’t do that. You don’t need to, little lady._

_(You’re going to be bad at singing this song. And this one. And this. You’re bad at everything, are you not? You’re going to lose. You’re awful. Your only worth is your voice. And you can’t even do that.)_

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do anything anymore. You couldn’t sing. You couldn’t climb. You couldn’t laugh and couldn’t joke, and - what were you good for anyway? The burning eyes you left behind, the ones you can’t forget, the ones which will never forgive you.

You abandoned your voice, your pride, your everything, too tired. 

Then somebody took your hand, again, and again, and again, until you could joke and laugh, and climb, and even sing.

They’re at your side, aren’t they? It’s the truth of your life: you lean at them too much. They did so much for you, and yet, they continue to do more. You hate yourself for loving it so much. 

But if they are, just next to you, then - 

Then - 

You can sing. Even when so many strangers (not real strangers) will hear you as well. What’s there to be afraid of? It’s not like anybody will dare say something cruel or unkind, your devil guardians next to you. And - and, you’re sure that Shinsuke would protect you too. Maybe even Rin would roll his eyes at people trying to demean you. 

“ _Buddy_ ,” you start, shockingly bold and loud, “ _You’re a boy, make a big noise_.”

There’s no scene. There are no juries. There’s no your brother.

“ _Playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday_.”

No pressure, just your voice. It was left unused for a long time. 

“ _You got mud on your face, you big disgrace._ ” 

It doesn’t disappoint you. The tune is pure and perfect. Angelic, they used to call your voice, but was it, when your words were so foul? You never wanted to go to heaven anyway. 

“ _Kicking your can all over the place, singin_ '.”

With your last verse, you look to your pillar of stability, your friends. Gee, you’re so soft for them. And they claim they’re the ones who spoil you.

“ _We will,_ ” Atsumu and Osamu go at the same time, “ _We will rock you_!”

To your shock, the whole bus _answers_. 

“ _We will, we will rock you!”_

* * *

You sing way too much. After _Queen_ , you go for one of the _Naruto_ openings (the person next to Gintama, Kosaku, you remember!, is a fan of _Naruto_ too), then _BTS_ ’s _Not Today,_ and finally, _Hamilton_. But it doesn’t end on your favorite musical, oh no. 

Kurosu is nearly crying from happiness when you finally stop at one am. 

“In my time, people were sleeping in buses,” he moans to coach Oomi, “Everything is wrong with today’s youth.”

You don’t know if he’s smiling, but his voice sounds fond. 

You fight back the giggle as twins are sleeping next to you. You are not in what some people would call a normal position. Atsumu is leaning his whole weight on your shoulder, while Osamu lies on your lap. 

Suna grins at you, mischievously. 

"Blackmail material,” he whispers. 

You grin, showing him your thumb up. 

“Send it to me,” you mouth to him. He only nods before returning to his seat.

You move your arm around Osamu, lean on Atsumu, and close your eyes. Welcome darkness, old friend.

* * *

Atsumu ends up drooling at you, the stupid bastard that he is. Gross. How is this even possible that he is still sleeping? He was out before you! Osamu is awake. Suna is awake. Gintama is awake. Kosaku is awake. Fuck, you are pretty sure that the whole of Japan is awake. It’s nearly seven am, for poor Christ's sake. So, why is twin number two _not awake_?

Your poor shoulders are nearly dead from the heavy load they were made to endure. The one that Atsumu is at? Yeah, you don't feel it anymore.

“Kill him,” whispers the devil on your second shoulder. His name is Osamu Miya and you know for far longer than you probably should, “We will throw his body out of the window. Nobody will ever find out.”

“That is amateurish work, Osamu,” you tsk - tsk at him, “We are better than that. They will find him too fast and relatives/friends are always first suspects.”

“Oh god damn it,” moans Gintama, “Just wake him up. It’s too early to be near you.” 

“I feel hungover,” complains Suna, “We didn’t even drink anything. As far as I remember,” he shoots both you and Osamu with a suspicious gaze, “What did you do?” 

“Wow, so embarrassing, Rin - kun,” you stick out your tongue, “You found us out. We actually vodka and poisoned the air with it.” 

“We would've gotten away with it if it wasn't for that meddling kid,” sighs overdramatically Osamu, “Hey, is it not Sendai’s Downtown? When did we get here?” 

“Wake Atsumu, then!” you delicately start to poke him, but he doesn’t even stir, “AtsuAtsu, hey?” 

Nothing. No reaction at all. You wrinkle your nose. 

“Tsumu,” Osamu slaps him, “Hey, trash, wake up.” 

“Give me a second, I gotta film this,” Suna starts to look for his phone, but as he doesn’t find it in his pocket, he straight up dives down to his seat.

“Nice receive, Rin - kun,” Osamu mocks him before he slaps his brother again. 

Still nothing. 

“You beautiful setter, you?” 

He opens his eyes immediately. 

“Someone called for me?” 

Your roll your eyes. Whatever he wanted to say next is interrupted, thank you, Confucius. Your savior is coach Kurosu who stands up, glares at everyone, and clears his throat. 

“Okay, troublemakers and Kita, we are all glad you're here,” he starts, sending the captain a smile, “We’re nearly here. Make yourself look like normal human beings, get your things, and stand still for the minute. We will get keys for your rooms and then you have time for yourself. Please don’t wear your uniforms. We don’t want to pay for collateral damage.” 

“He is joking,” coach Oomi laughs merrily as he lies. 

“I’m _not_.”

The team snickers. 

What follows is chaos, as you finally stop, and disembark. It’s so good to finally stop. Your poor bones hurt like hell, and your shoulder, yeah, you need a new one. Where can you buy one? Probably dark web or something. 

If you haven’t got rid of your last fuck, you would be losing your mind. This is not a place students should stay, sensei. _This is fucking palace_. You sigh, waiting for someone to say _sike_. Nobody does. 

So coach Kurosu redistributes keys - you are the only person in the room with one bed, haha, the power of being the only girl - while twins are together. You are just across each other, though, so that’s good. They leave your bags in your room and you are alone in an enormous, monstrous bed that no - 

No fucks are given. No fucks given, [Name].

You yawn. Sleeping on the bus is not the most comfortable thing on Earth. And sleeping with twins on your poor, feeble shoulders? Yeah, everything hurts. And to add more wounds to your awful state of mind, you feel sweaty. Ugh. You have to take a shower. And then go eat something. Yum - yum, Sendai's food. It sucks it will not be made by Sam’s hand, but you will live through it. Maybe. You should take your teammates and go wild, maybe find some nice restaurants. Hm. You go into your big - ass bathroom. 

And then. Comes the problem. You facepalm. 

You don’t have your toothbrush. Yay. But. Of course, you fucking don't. And your toothpaste is nowhere to be seen as well. Well, let's think logically about it, you can borrow a paste, but a toothbrush? You groan. You are a lazy person. And sometimes you are too stupid, but really. What are you supposed to do? You have to go buy one. Ugh. Without even changing from your pajamas, you leave your room and hotel and go on an adventure. Straight to Atsumu and Osamu! They will totally go with you, right? You open the doors to their room.

And close them again.

Why is one of the beds already broken? Why are pillow feathers everywhere? Why do twins look like they just wrestled an entire army? You left them for two minutes. You sigh. Ugh. No. Not this time, Satan. You don't have the willpower to deal with them. You don't want to deal with them. Your shoulders hurt. Your body screams in pain. But. But. But. Just in and out, right? _Fifteen minutes trip_.

You go to the elevator and take it all way down, sealing your fate. Finally, bravely step out of the hotel. Into the wild Miyagi jungle you go, ready to mingle. Time to find a store! So you go, go, go, go, and go. But there’s no shop. How. You’re in the city, right? Why is there no place to buy things? You are probably in some sort of super-rich district.

So you go even further.

 _Plus ultra_ , right, Go even further! That’s what _My Hero Academia_ and well, Spain, told you to do. Well, let's do it, right? Right?!

* * *

You forgot that the Spanish Empire has fallen.

Just like you.

There’s no shop. The shop was _a lie_. You have no idea where you are. And the best thing? You currently are holding your phone in your pal. You could go back if you only remembered the hotel’s location. You don't remember its address. You can recite all battles of both World Wars, but one - one stupid address? Too much for your microscopic brain. The only option? Contact somebody. Fuck. You crouch down, in absolute despair. You will have to call someone. They are going to be so insufferable, gosh. You don’t want to -

Then the world spins around you, as something hits you, hard, and you find yourself falling from fucking _crouch,_ how pathetic is this?! And, and, and there is something infinitely heavy on your body. What the - Fuck - It hurts, hurts so bad, like that time Atsumu kicked you in the face. _Did - did somebody just fucking tripped over you_? Sendai sucks! Officially. Legally. God. You will sue somebody.

You groan, a little bit too used to eating the ground. You meet it many times with your face, it’s, you know, comforting. Maybe you should just lie here and die. The pain is a new one, though. The pain is the warning that something is not right with your body at this moment. You don't have any idea what - your muscles hurt, your shoulders hurt, your nose is probably broken, and the side of your stomach - where you were kicked - is probably gone forever.

“Kageyama?! Are you okay?!” 

Oww, your ears. You moan into your friend, the ground. Some people don’t know how to control their voices. Or how to be quiet. Or have some fucking chill.

“Ye - yeah.” 

The heavyweight finally leaves. And you are _free_. You are going with Rin here, you will just lie and wait, maybe sleep. Leave the hard things to future you. Everything hurts too much right now anyway.

“Kageyama, you idiot!” shouts another, higher voice, “You killed her!” the voice stops functioning. The audacity of this bitch, you are dying right here! “You killed a girl?!” 

Why is he speaking about you as some sort of endangered species? Are you in some alternative universe, where females don't exist anymore? Yeah, as if. So, the second theory. Their surprise is staged. They tried to kill you. You are their future victim, and now they will want you to follow them into a dark, ugly alley. So, you live through fucking Kobe, and are killed in Sendai? Your ancestors are laughing at you right now.

You risk it and finally lift your head. You are immediately met with eyes that make you think of blueberry cupcakes. 

You really could go for them right now, god damn it.

* * *

Future kids: So how did you and mom meet?

MC: HE FUCKING KILLED ME 

MC: IN MY PYJAMAS

Kageyama: _avoids looking at anybody_

So, yeah, silliness at the bus with a tiny bit of angst, and KAGEYAMA. I couldn’t resist. Also, for my neighbor who is listening to Despacito at 2 am? Fuck you. Have part of MC’s backstory! She used to be a talented singer, but because of her brother’s pushy (borderline abusive I even think? I gave warning anyway) ways, she decided to stop, only singing in the choir at middle school. She stopped singing completely in her third’s year. Do people still like _We Will Rock You_ or I’m completely boomer? Had a problem choosing a song, because I mostly listen to metal. My friends told me making them sing Sabaton was a bad idea :c 

Also, me for half of this chapter: I don’t even how to call this place for baggage in buses in my language, how the fuck I’m supposed to know it in English?! 

That’s the reason some terminology can be fucking wrong. Hopefully, you still understand what I’m talking about.

Also, announcements. Please, greet Oikawa Tooru, our newest simp. Hope you don’t mind him. Somebody was very persuasive, so I added him. Officially, this fic is no longer “let’s bully Atsumu”. Now we’re going to bully Oikawa. 

Thank you for reading and hope you have a wonderful day! Stay safe!


	15. In which the twins work together (so, the end of the world is coming).

“B – b – blood!” screams an elementary kid, “B – blood on a pretty girl’s face!”

Huh. You guess something like blood would be scary for a little kid. Where’s this pretty girl? You will help. She may be dying, and well, you just were practically assaulted, but that doesn’t mean you will not help another person. You are not this loud elementary kid.

You look around, feeling a little bit dazed, but the only people you see are, well, the person who tried to kill you – a teenager who is in every way the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, so he’s probably a hitman – and screaming elementary kid. Huh, maybe he’s not so young. His legs look like they could crush your wrist in a matter of seconds. And his hair? Straight-up looks like made of carrots. Carrot cake, yummy.

You try to shake your head, but your whole body screams in pain. You mumble a curse, before meeting the eyes of your – future – killer once again. He has nice eyes, but they are making you so hungry.

Why is he looking so freaked out?

“A-are you alright?!” he screams and instantly kneels next to you, looking at your face like you were the most macabre picture of medieval tortures.

Are you all alright? Nah, you are lost, not alright.

Huh, what? Why is he asking you? What's happening? Can’t you be left alone on the floor and leave it all to future you? The future you is a bitch, she deserves the responsibility. The current you need cuddles and the ground is the only one offering.

“Can you stand up?!” he speaks. Loudly. So he screams. Into your ear. That’s rude.

Huh, you don’t like him, you think.

“But there's a pretty girl that needs help?” you tilt your head in confusion and fucking regret it already.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hurts. Where are your idiots? TsuTsu, SamSam? Ah, yeah. You decided to go without them. You only needed to buy a toothbrush, you could do something so simple alone, right?

“Y – you!” shouts the Carrot Cake, “You are the pretty girl who needs help!”

Yeah, right, as if.

“S- shut up, Hinata, you moron!” Blueberry Cupcake screams again, as he starts to search his pockets for something before shoving it your face, “Y – your nose! It’s bleeding!”

Yeah, your nose is bleeding. Okay!

Wait.

Your nose is bleeding? Noses shouldn’t bleed, right? You clumsily, without any finesse, take the handkerchief (it’s not blue, not like his eyes, aww) from his hand, your fingers briefly touching. Then you throw it straight into your face.

“Problem solved,” you declare, before going back to the ground, “Huh, there seems to be poisonous gas in Miyagi. Be careful, blueberry cupcake, carrot cake. It would be hard to kill people while poisoned, right?” you wave blindly at them, ready to contemplate the gentleness of the concrete.

You’re damn proud of that normal human interaction (coach Kurosu would be so proud), but that causes only more screams. You ignore them promptly to dream about food. And shower. And toothbrushes.

And then, you feel being pulled up.

“What the fuck?!”

You are being kidnapped.

And not by twins.

You blink furiously as Carrothead and Blueberry Cupcake both start pulling you by shoulders _somewhere_.

The sheer shock wakes you from the slight daze you were in. You scream and try to trash about, but you’re hurt. Like, seriously bruised and you just had a nosebleed, oh my Hades, you probably look worse than twins after their fights, how are you supposed to go back now?! They are going to be furious or disappointed, and there’s no way you will deal with that shit.

You pale. Which means you have to go underground. The deeper the better. Maybe you should go with those weirdos. Dying is better than seeing Atsumu and Osamu now.

“Kageyama, you idiot, you should apologize!” declares Carrot Cake as you are pulled away. Yes, please, let’s go somewhere.

“Hinata, you moron, I know!” snaps back Cupcake, “But we have to take her to the nurse fast!”

“Just kill me,” you demand, “I now understand what RinRin feels all the time. I want to die.”

“You hit her hard, Kageyama,” Carrot sends you a concerned gaze, “She’s speaking nonsense.”

“Shut up.”

Wow, you must be popular with girls,” you comment mockingly. 

Mr. Dark blushes furiously before he thickens hold over your arm. Fuckity fuck. You will not give him the satisfaction of seeing pain on your face. You are going to die with any dignity you have left.

“W-what does it have to do with anything?!” he screams. Do people in Miyagi don’t know how to, you know, speak in normal volumes?

“ _I’m a Dead Girl Walking_ ,” you sing-song and they peer at you like an alien, “I just don’t care anymore, okay. Nothing can be worse than seeing the demon brothers right now. Kill me, torture me, take me to your leader, whatever.”

“To our leader?” Cupcake furrows his eyebrows, feigning bewilderment, “You mean our captain?”

“Hey, Kageyama, it's a good plan,” the younger one instantly proclaims, “Let’s take her to the captain! He will know what to do!”

Your assassins are so fucking incompetent. You want a refund. Nothing in your life can go well. You can’t even get killed properly. So you are dragged – and really, is it not pathetic that the kid that looks like he just ended elementary school can carry you – to the leader of these people? Well, at the very least to their hideout.

 _Karasuno High School_ proclaims building. Are they trying to hide their secret murder – cult by pretending to be school? Nice, nice, you can approve of it and – fuck. Your head spins around. How hard did you hit the concrete? Should you be worried? Do you have some sort of brain damage? Because that’s much, much worse than teenagers - assassins.

But you are to be taken not to the building, oh no, but to the gym. It’s shabby looking – okay, it’s not. It's a perfectly normal, functional gym. Inarizaki just screwed your mind over.

“Daichi – san!” Carrot Cake shouts as he enters, Cupcake and you just after him. You don’t do so by your own will, of course, you are dragged in, “Daichi – san?”

“Hinata?”

The boy – or the man – before you is tall. Everyone is tall, you’ve been over it so many times, so why does it matter? Why do you always feel the need to rub it in your face? You want to sigh, but fight off that urge. It's the tall people’s fault, not yours.

He is somewhere dependable to look for a leader of killers, but that makes sense. Murderers, after all, are not some beasts from hell, but people just like you. That’s what makes them so scary.

“What happened?” he instantly upon you, looking at your face as if you were beaten by some thugs, “Who is this? What happened to her, why are the two of you - ?”

Haha, the leader of the assassins is not so terrifying, which in turn means he’s really, really horrifying, right? RIGHT?!

Only he’s not the leader of the assassins. You are in the gym with a net. There are _Mikasa_ and _Molten_ balls everywhere. And everyone is wearing sports costumes and gazing at you. This is a volleyball club of some kind, not a murder club. _So many people. Haha_. Somebody, please detonate the bomb now. You want your denial back.

“We were running when suddenly Kageyama did BANG – BANG, and I look, he’s on the ground, so he stands up and we see this girl, and – “

“It was not like that, Hinata, you moron!” Cupcake is fast to defend himself. He collects himself before he continues more calmly, “I tripped over her. She is not looking good, so we dragged her here.”

Tripped over? Huh. You have to read more about the laws of this land more. Can you clarify what happened as an assault with a deadly weapon? You’re hurt so much by his body weight, so he has to be clarified as a _deadly weapon_.

God, the side of your stomach is screaming in pain. Even louder than Not – The – Leader person at your, huh, would-be murderers still, you guess.

You abducted somebody?! You hurt somebody?! Wait, that’s not important. Shimizu?!”

“I’m getting first aid!”

“I’m very sorry about it,” you see him bowing to you before he steers you towards a seat.

He has such, well, not exactly Kita’s energy (God, you wish Shinsuke was here to calm you down with his presence). Not the robot's energy. Dad’s energy, if you had to guess? You don’t know how to react, so you just obey him, sitting down and instantly whining in pain.

“Where does it hurt?” he is instantly at you, “You’re bleeding from the nose and have bruises on cheeks, but it doesn’t look serious, though head wounds can be very hard to discover and could cause massive damage – “

“Massive damage?!”

The twins will never let you out of their sight _now_.

“N – no, not an ambulance,” you’re going to be that bitch, “I – I’m on a school trip, it will cause everybody problems – “

“It will cause them more problems if you are seriously hurt –“

Oh, is he going to guilt-trip you? Please, bitch. Who does he think you are? You grew up with demons themselves. You clasp your hands, interrupting his monologue.

“No. Hospital,” you nearly growl, “No, no, no, no, no, they have a match today – and Atsu was talking about it for ages, we had to kick his phone away to get him to sleep, and Osa tried to hide it, but I know he was excited as well. I’m not doing it to them - “

Did you start to ramble? Oh. God. It’s getting harder to _breathe now_. To the boy’s credit, he doesn’t stop you, letting you talk at length about the topics he doesn’t have a right to know about. After a minute or two, as you talk you are joined by a tall, black-haired girl who is instantly looking over your face. She leans and starts to treat your _very serious_ wounds.

You try to hold still, but you can’t help it, you just catch the gaze of Blueberry Cupcake. Why does he look grumpy? You are the one who is supposed to be! You want to sulk. Does he know what sort of apocalypse he caused? You are not going to _die_. 

So. You have only one choice left. Yep, you have to escape from Japan now. Change your name and appearance, disappear forever. And this happens just when you are starting to make friends! _Forgive me, Shinsuke_ , you whisper in your mind, _Forgive me, RinRin. Ojiro – senpai. Akagi. Gintama. I will remember you all when I’m in Argentina._

“The Kansai accent?”

That’s what he was thinking about?! 

“Fuck you and what you represent,” you murmur, “My accent is perfectly acceptable and even cute for some people and I will be not made fool of. I’m a proud resident of the city of Kobe where I’m known and feared – “

“You said you are here on the trip?”

“Please, stay still,” gently chides you as she places a band-aid on your cheek, before turning back to her team you guess, “Don’t irritate her further.”

You don’t like it. It’s plain. Twins – no, don’t think about them, you are not getting back, you’re going to live far away in America – always made sure your band-aids were cool, like with lions or snakes. These are boring, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Yup,” you would love to nod, but you can’t, as your face is getting fixed, “Headmaster thought it would be fine for us to travel over eight hundred kilometers for practice matches. Stupid Atsumu. Stupid Headmaster.”

“And you are from - ?”

“Amagasaki,” you answer easily, “Inarizaki High.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” someone screams. You look in that direction and see a nearly bald person who, well, looks like he would love to clobber you. A delinquent that twins warned you about, “That _Inarizaki High_?! They were third in the Spring Tournament!”

“What?!” the carrot cake shouts before looking at you, “You’re going to the school that went to the nationals?! That’s so cool!”

He wouldn’t say that if he saw your team. The only ones who could be called _awesome_ in it were Shinsuke and Ojiro. For the rest? The jury’s out.

“They are fucking losers,” you pop your lips, “Like, Suna is practically dead all the time, and when he’s not, he is wishing he is. Gintama is probably sexist and Akagi always thinks I date my childhood friends – “

“You know them?!”

Is he even listening to you?

“I’m the manager of the volleyball team – “

The whole gym erupts.

“That’s so cool!”

“How is their ace?!”

“What about their setter?!”

“Are they so good?!”

Okay, you need somebody to tell you how to start breathing again, because you just fucking stopped doing it. There are just so many voices, and, you know, none of these people are familiar. It’s panic time, is it not? Goodness, you are going to throw up.

“Hey, stop crowding her!” you are saved by not – your – dad. You would love to have him as one, but you will stay faithful to Shinsuke, your only true father figure in this world, “We are still having a practice!”

“Geh, Daichi – san got angry again…”

Just like that, they disperse, leaving you alone with a man called, you guess, Sawamura Daichi, and your private nurse, name unknown. She sighs, before directing her gaze at you. 

“I’m sorry for them.”

You better fucking be.

“T – that’s okay.”

No, it’s not. But you spend too much time with Atsumu, so you are a liar just like him. You don’t try to smile as if you did so you would only mess up a girl's work. You just have to wait patiently as she cleans your face. It’s hard not to think that you still didn’t brush your teeth and that’s very, very uncomfortable. It takes a moment, but it seems your patience pays off, as she finally stops and exchanges gazes with Daichi.

You smile at her, bowing your head a little. She bows back, her face soft. For the moment, you are nearly relaxed.

And then, of course, everything falls.

Because.

_Because._

Your phone _rings_.

Your blood runs cold. You look to Sawamura, who nods at you kindly, permitting you to use it. You gaze at The Girl, but she is already long gone, so there goes your other excuse. You take your phone from the pocket and nearly cry when you read the name on the screen.

It’s demons.

It’s your very private demons.

“Tsu – chan?” you answer the phone hesitantly and have to instantly withdraw the hand with the phone from your ear.

“[NAME]?! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHERE ARE YOU?! WE’RE LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU! SAMU WANTED TO GO POLICE RIGHT AWAY, BUT KITA – SAN TOLD US TO TRY CONTACT YOU FIRST, OH GOD OF VOLLEYBALL, PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE SAFE, MY SUNSHINE - ”

“ARE YOU TALKING WITH HER, TSUMU?! “

“SHUT UP, SAMU, I’M ON THE PHONE WITH [NAME]! “

“GIMME THAT!”

“NO!”

There’s noise in the background. Probably one twin is hitting the other. They are so embarrassing. You blush. Crow – Something High School’s students look at you as some sort of wild animal and you want to become one with earth so _badly_.

“Tsu – chan, Sam – chan, please,” you beg, “I’m going to cry.”

There’s instant silence as Miya twins finally calm down. You take a deep breath, feeling nervous all of a sudden. They are going to ask you what happened, and you have no idea how to even describe how quickly the situation escalated.

“Where are you, Sunny? We will come for you, no matter how far it is,” Atsumu’s voice is much gentler and so you breathe out.

Can he read your thoughts? Did he know you were practically sweating buckets over here? You bite your lip, before looking up to Sawamura. You still don’t know where you are. He nods, as if understanding your predicament, and indicates gently to pass the phone to him. 

“I’m going to give my phone to somebody who will tell you the address, okay, AtsuAtsu?” you speak quickly, not wanting to give them more reasons to scream, “Don’t freak out,” you whisper before handing it over.

It’s more for Sawamura’s sake than your friend.

“Yes, hello,” Sawamura smiles pleasantly even though Atsumu can’t see him, “Yes, one of our club members tripped over her by accident – Yes, she has some bruises and a bloody nose, but we took care of that – Emm, she doesn’t seem angry – Something to eat? Okay, we can do that – Och, it’s about twenty minutes to our school, the address is – “

You tremble, the stress of the situation finally getting to you. You are so going to fall into pieces. You just wanted a toothbrush. What did you do in your previous life to deserve this hell instead?

You want to take a shower. You want to brush your teeth. You just want to go back to twi – you mean, back home. To Kobe. Sweet, good Kobe, where you are not assaulted and abducted for crouching on the pavement. Really, what did you do to deserve that kind of treatment? You’re going to seriously start crying.

“Hey, hey!” one of the team members smiles at you, and wow, he is more radiant than the sun, somebody should try to harvest this energy, he is practically lighting up the whole gym, “You don’t have anything to be scared about! Your friends will be here soon, right? Aren’t you glad? Don’t worry, we will take care of you until they come here!” he throws thumbs up at you, “So don’t cry.”

You blink.

Oh. Oh no.

Be still, heart.

Your cheeks redden, so you are glad you have those bandages now. Even if they are lame and without crocodiles, or foxes, or unicorns.

“T – thank you,” you mutter softly, avoiding his gaze.

“Noya – san is right!” screams the delinquent from old–school manga, “Hey, it’s going to be alright! Don’t worry about things!”

They both smile at you. So, this is how normal humans behave? You know what Kurosu meant now. There’s no way Inarizaki’s team is in any shape or form even similar to those people. For example: If Atsu saw a sad girl, he would laugh at her. If it was Osamu, she would be ignored. If you saw a sad girl, no, scratch that, you wouldn’t notice her at all. 

Wow, you are pretty awful people. 

“What’s your name?”

“D – Date [Name].”

“You have a very pretty name, [Name],” he places his hand on his waist and points to himself with a thumb, “I’m Nishinoya Yuu!”

You are looking straight at the _sun_. It’s so fucking warm you have to look away because you will _melt_. Who even makes people like him? Where were they born? How are they raised? You could write an essay about _nurture vs nature-based_ only on the boy before you.

“I’m Tanaka Ryuunosuke,” introduces himself to the delinquent, “Nice to meet you!”

He gently pats you back in a comforting manner before joining the rest of his team on the court. Sawamura glares at Nishinoya, and the shorter boy – holy shit, he’s short! Finally! After all those years, someone who is not like a fucking giraffe! – grins at you one more time before following Tanaka.

 _Don’t take my sunshine away_ , you think morosely as he goes. Away. So far away from you.

“I’m Sawamura Daichi,” tells you, “I’m the captain of the volleyball team at Karasuno High. I’m sorry for my teammate.”

Just add _please don’t fill charges_ and he is the ideal PR person. You bite your lips in order not to sigh.

“Your friend told me to get you something to eat,” how sweet, oh gosh, do they have blueberry cupcakes? “Do you want anything?”

Yes, yes, you do.

“N – no, thank you,” you smile awkwardly, “Please, ignore me. You have practice, right?”

But you will never tell him this. Yeah, go. Away. Please. Leave you alone with your mind. You have to scream inwardly in order not to die of your nerves.

He finally goes, sending you a friendly smile. Yes. Go. Away.

And so you scream at yourself. On the outside, you just sit quietly, breathing in and out, ignoring the pain and your mental exhaustion. Inside though? Haha. Ha. Are you afraid of seeing the twins? Yeah. They are going to be angry at you. What if they decide to not talk to you at all? Who are you supposed to sit next to then?

You have Shinsuke and Rin, and the rest of the team, of course, but. But. You always sit with the twins. How are you supposed not to? Ugh. That plan with Argentina is looking tempting right now.

Gee.

The doors slam open and your personal torturers appear. They don’t even try to appear civilized as they just straight-up ignore everybody before their crazy eyes meet yours. And they _beeline_ it to you, shoving over everybody in their path without any sort of guilt or a deeper thought.

Yeah, all is well in the world. They are still evil bastards.

They stop just before you, kneeling like knights before their _princess_ (you hate this thought, being a princess is so lame). For a second, they just stare at you, taking in your appearance carefully, examining every injury on your body. You have to look awful. Their expressions change so quickly, you don't even have time to blink. And then they move, and you feel Atsumu’s hand reaching to your face. He tenderly caresses your cheeks, avoiding bandaids like the plague, most likely afraid to hurt you. At the same time as his brother, Osamu takes your hand and he rubs his thumb along your skin, trying to soothe you without words, before he takes a seat next to you, gently kissing your forehead.

You smile at them awkwardly, not sure what to say.

“Hi,” you try, and add when they stay listen in a bashful tone, “Sorry.”

That one word awakens them from whatever stupor they were in. Their eyes – so similar, yet so different – seems to instantly become much more alive, much more aware of their surroundings.

“You are _safe_ ,” Atsumu whispers as his hand comes closer to your lips. The guilt crashes over you like a tsunami and you wince, “What happened? Who did this for you? Do you need me to punch somebody?”

As if only waiting for those words, Osamu squeezes your hand delicately, as if you were made of glass.

“Do you need me to punch Tsumu?” his tone is surprisingly gentle for such crude words and you can't help, but demurely smile at him.

“I will let him punch me if it will make you feel better.”

“Okay, I no longer desire to punch him,” Osamu nods fervently, before his eyes, well there is no other word to describe it. They simply darken as you nearly feel him shaking. He is angry, oh no, “But who do I have to punch? I will fucking punch somebody. Kick them too. _Who did it to you_?”

You have to come with an answer fast before they destroy the gym and then _the world_.

“It was an incident?”

It’s not a good answer, as they only furrow their brows.

“Why is there a question mark?”

“I don’t like that question mark,” Osamu nods and so you blush, knowing you have to tell the whole embarrassing story.

“I just got out to buy a toothbrush, because I forgot mine.”

“Of course you did,” Atsumu sighs.

“We would go with you, dearie. Why didn’t you - ?”

Your excuse is rushed.

“I tried to. But you already demolished your room and well – “

“It’s not an excuse, you know that,” Atsumu tries to poke you teasingly in the side of your stomach, but you straight up _shriek_ as his finger touches your skin.

He instantly takes it back and picks up part of your top, showing the world the awful soon – to – become - bruised skin. You cannot even look at this for a long period of time. It’s absolutely disgusting, still reddish, but the corners of it have already become bluish, nearly reminiscent of the blueberry. Ironic. You sigh. Sleeping on this side will be such a bitch.

The twins stiffen. Osamu frees his hand out of yours and clenches his fists. You notice how his knuckles become nearly white.

Fuck.

“Tsumu,” Samu is angry, angry, angry, gosh, the last time you saw him like that was, _was a year ago_ , “There is fucking footprint on her shirt, somebody _kicked_ her – “

“Hello, excuse me?”

Dad – You mean _Daichi_ to the rescue. He clears his throat and the twins instantly turn around, though Tsumu still holds your shirt tightly. They gape at him as if they never saw him when they entered the gym. They exchange glances before standing up, hiding you in a nearly protectively manner, behind their backs.

You roll your eyes and slap Atsumu’s palm away. They are going all in the overprotective mode, again. Your shirt is finally free, the bruise hidden, so you can stand up at your wobbly legs. You stumble a little, but both of your friends instantly balance you, after which they take your hands, standing just a step ahead.

“Hello!” Atsumu sends him one of his trademark, fake smiles, “You’re the one who I was talking to on the phone, right? Thank you for taking care of our precious _childhood friend_.”

He says it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. He is furious, gods. You look at Osamu, ready to see him insult his twin, but he doesn’t even frown. Oh no. _Oh no._ He is really upset, fuck.

They both are.

The apocalypse is incoming.

“It’s no problem. I’m sorry for my teammate causing you trouble,” Dad’s energy is gone and suddenly, it’s like second Atsumu (wait, Osamu is second Atsumu. Third Atsumu?). He looks so fake that you are surprised his face doesn’t break.

“Your teammate?”

You come quickly with an explanation before they do something stupid.

“He sort of – you know – tripped over me.”

Was that wrong to say? The grip on your hands thickens.

“Yes, yes, you mentioned it over the phone,” Atsumu says in such a nonchalant way that if you didn’t know him better, you would believe he doesn’t care at all, “How did this happen anyway?”

“I was being stupid,” you roll your eyes, “You fucking know me. Just crouched down and Blueberry Cupcake didn’t see me. There is the story, thanks for making me remember those embarrassing moments.”

“Blueberry Cupcake?”

“Can you make me some? Or carrot cake? Or – “

“Now I want some.”

“You two,” Atsumu shakes his head, “We will find some bakery on the way back.”

“Are you a member of the team that was on nationals?!”

Your conversation is interrupted by carrot cake, who somehow sneaked at you all, literally coming out of nowhere.

The three of you - Ewww, no, no, you mean the two of them, as you are still hurting, tilt their heads in confusion at the little guy. 

“We’re going to the nationals this year!” declares Carrot Cake proudly. 

Great, Carrot Cake. They started to chill out, and you just clicked their berserk button again. You sigh, as you look at the confident not - elementary school’s student. He said _we_ , right? It means he is actually a high schooler and you totally can’t tell with the way he behaves and looks. 

Your friends, though, change into furious servants of Satan yet again, glaring at the boy, before Atsumu _smiles_. 

Okay, he should run. 

“Who’s libero on the team?” he asks, pretending to be friendly. Your ray of sunshine raises his hand and so, Atsumu looks straight at him, “Think you can get my serve?”

“Huh? Yeah, probably! Give it to me!”

“Hey, how about you join him to stop me? Whoever wants?” he grins at Sawamura, “Me and Samu, you know, we didn’t play last year when Inarizaki got third place. We were a little bit busy. And still, Inarizaki defeated Shiratorizawa, champions of Miyagi prefecture without any problem.” 

Understatement of the century. You puff your cheeks, not really knowing what the fuck he is doing, before looking at the younger twin. Osamu doesn’t react, which is really out of character. He only leads you a little bit out of the way as Atsumu takes one of the balls. Mikasa or Molten? You have no idea. 

“Hey, you punk!” you hear Tanaka’s voice, “Aren’t you a little disrespectful to Daichi – san?!”

“Am I? Will listen to your complaints after you receive my serve, how about it, _Daichi - kun_?”

Yeah, he will not. You sweat a little.

Maybe there is some sort of hidden meaning behind his words. Is he trying to intimidate them? Atsumu tosses the ball lightly and catches it as he waits for Karasuno’s team to rise to his challenge. They do, several of them in fact – with carrot cake, blueberry cupcake, Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Sawamura going to the other side of the court.

After the moment, he takes six steps from the end line. He turns around, tosses the ball into the air, and _jumps_. Before you can blink, he comes down, the devil hiding in his smile. 

The ball slams straight next to Nishinoya with a loud blast before ricocheting into the wall. He doesn’t react, though. Can’t really. What do you when something like that goes after you? There is a truly overwhelming force in Tsu’s serve. Something supernatural, devastating, and debilitating. 

You hope your ray of the sun is alright.

“How do you think our team will fare now that we’re playing?” he taunts them with a smile, “How about you see for yourself. Hey, Samu, who are we playing against today?”

“Aoba Johsai at the Sendai Gymnasium,” Osamu yawns, very deliberately, “Are you done?”

The team is still frozen when he turns around to you and Sam. Atsu doesn’t care, though. He only takes off his jacket and throws it around your shoulders as the three go in the direction of the doors.

“Nice murder, Tsu – chan!” you grin at him proudly, when nobody speaks, “Bye-bye, Sawamura – san! Nishinoya – san! Tanaka – san! Thank you for everything.”

“That’s nice kill, sunshine,” Atsumu chides you as he delicately ruffles your hair, “But yeah, that is _No – Touch Ace_. Now, wear your jacket, brat.”

You stick your tongue out, but slide your arms into the jacket nonetheless.

"No – Touch Ace sounds so badass and cool. Huh, is it not Samu’s jacket?”

“Thank you for your time,” Osamu speaks monotonously, disregarding that Atsu just gave you his jacket, “Sorry for the trouble,” he sends a last, scattering glare at the shocked into silence members of the volleyball team.

“You know, I hate playing with scrubs,” mocks Atsumu as his way of telling farewell, “So if you make it to the nationals, at least make it enjoyable for me, okay?”

You roll your eyes, too used to Atsu being an asshole to others. Completely nonchalantly, you wave at the team. 

You leave Karasuno’s gym and join your friends outside. The three of you start to head off and you feel your stomach grumble. You are so hungry. You still didn't have breakfast, and well. You crave blueberry cupcakes, damn it, not rice or miso soup. 

Before you can voice any discomfort, there comes Osamu’s hand with beautifully packaged onigiri. _His homemade onigiri._ Without waiting, you grab it and take your food out foil before devouring it without mercy. Hm, yummy! There’s plum in this one. 

“Wait, Samu, where does that come from?”

“It’s from my _[Name]’s Food Reserve_.”

“You are spoiling her too much.”

“You’re just salty there is no _Tsumu’s Food Reserve_ in Sam – chan’s pockets.”

Before they can even entertain the thought of snapping back, one voice stops all three of you in your tracks. 

“Date – san!”

You turn around and see Blueberry Cupcake in all of his tall, dark glory. Didn’t expect him. He has the guts, you will give him that. You are now out of the gym, not surrendered by his team, you can commit murder.

Before you can even voice this thought, he does something you didn’t expect him to. He reddens and bows before you.

“I’m very sorry about hurting you, Date – san,” he says and the twins instantly huff, glaring razors into the boy, “Please, accept this as an apology.” 

Ignoring idiots, you look at what he holds in his hands. Some sort of carton, huh? Free stuff. Who are you to refuse free goodies? Mama may have raised a stupid bitch, but she didn’t raise an idiot, so you take it without any hesitation. 

What do we have here? Huh. He got you a yogurt. He gave you food. _Free food._ Are you that transparent that strangers see how cheap you are? 

“Thank you, blueberry cupcake,” you open the yogurt instantly, “You are forgiven.”

“M – my name’s Kageyama Tobio, Date – san!”

You beam, completely ignoring his words.

"Nice to meet you then, Blueberry Cupcake!”

* * *

(The blond, the server, the member of one of the best schools in Japan, grins at him in a way that makes Tobio instantly remember Oikawa. He nearly shivers, but holds on, watching the three of them until they disappear completely. Somehow, averting the glare of the blond would be like losing.

_Tobio refuses to lose._

Date’s smile is still on his mind. That’s _distracting_ , but the way her lips twitched, how she narrowed her eyes, what she looked like, was just as enchanting, just as astounding as _that serve_ , but in a completely different, _harrowing_ way.

He’s _nearly_ glad when Hinata joins him outside of the gym.

“His serve was better than Oikawa – san's," he confesses to the shorter boy. 

Hinata grins. 

“If we go to nationals, we will meet more strong people like him, right?”

Tobio can’t help how his lip quivers with excitement. Inarizaki High, the school which won third in the Spring Tournament. _We didn’t play last year, you know,_ said the blond, his voice thick in Kansai accent, _Was busy. How do you think we will fare now that both me and Samu are regulars? Do you think you stand a chance?_

 _I want to play volleyball more_ , he thinks, _I want to stand across him on the court and win._

He looks at the middle blocker and nods. Hinata smiles in answer.

“Hey, if you are the King, and Oikawa is the Grand King, and he is better than both you and him, does it make him the Emperor?”

“Huh?! What are you talking about, moron?!”)

* * *

So, hello Karasuno. Hello trashy Atsumu.

Canon, who? Don’t know her. Atsumu is a dramatic bitch, is he not? Hope you enjoyed his trashiness. Trash. Osamu would go after him, but, you know, he was really angry. 

How did you enjoy Karasuno’s first appearance? Nishinoya and Tanaka are so precious, they would try to comfort MC. And Dadchi wanted to steal her away, but our Reader is loyal to Shinsuke! A little bit of Shimizu, Hinata, and Kageyama. Precious blueberry child. You will be known as a cupcake forever. Don’t let Oikawa hear it. 

Also! I will probably stop updating every day, instead of going for 1 update per 2 days. It was stressing me out a little up, and I felt like my writing could improve if I had a little more time. This chapter is a little bit longer than the normal one - I'm always going for 4k words, this one has nearly 6k! So, yeah, a little longer, but I was able to write everything I wanted! And, and, and - a little bit of Kageyama POV :4

Thank you for reading! <3 Have a wonderful day and stay safe.


	16. In which the series of unfortunate events continue (and you threaten to kill somebody, but it's nothing new, right?).

Atsumu laughs at your face. 

You puff your cheeks and stop around, trying to fight off the urge to punch him straight into the nose. Not that you would reach his ugly face, but maybe you could kick him into a place where the sun doesn’t reach. 

“We can take the rabbits,” Osamu, the only good person on the earth, pats your hair, “Or the kittens.”

He starts taking several packs of them. They are much more expensive than normal ones, but you don’t care. You will happily pay more for _aesthetics_. What you care about is that there are so few of them. And no _dinosaurs_. You start to dislike this prefecture. 

“Or - or the aliens!” Atsu squeezes out between his fits of laughter, “How about it, Miss Alien - lover?” 

You growl before you hand SamSam your new toothbrush and toothpaste. Finally, you were able to get one. How much blood was spilled for it? Too much. Your poor nose. 

“I’m going to kill him, SamSam.” 

“Go ahead.” 

You beam at him before jabbing your elbow into the side of Atsumu’s stomach, instantly silencing the blond menace. He chokes instead, just like he deserves, and then proceeds to hold his abdomen as he screeches in pain. Get rekt, loser. 

“Absolutely deserved,” Osamu comments to his twin, “We will take gauze and antiseptics as well. And some creams, of course. Huh. Creams,” he wonders aloud about something, most likely imaging said creams, “How about cookies with cream?” 

“How about mochi?” you propose instead, before clapping your hands excitedly, “Let’s get matcha, SamSam, matcha!” 

“I could go for matcha, hm…” he crouches down to the shelf to look for said snacks, “There they are.” 

“Hey, don’t forget the strawberry for me!” 

You two ignore Atsumu - even though Osa takes strawberry ones for his twin, the softie he is - as you slowly make your way to the cashier. The clerk looks bewildered when he sees the number of bandaids you wish to pursue.

“Shouldn’t you kids be in school?” he asks you as Osamu starts to place your items at the cash register. 

“Shouldn’t you be happy you have clients?” Atsumu mocks him, “Paying customers.” 

“Shut up, Tsumu,” Osamu yawns, “I don’t want to be banned from my first shop in the Miyagi, because of your lame one-liners.”

“They are not lame,” argues back Samu, “You’re the one who is lame, little brother.” 

“Wow, I can’t believe your proudest achievement is being born earlier than SamSam,” you roll your eyes at him. 

Instinctually Atsumu goes to pinch your cheeks, but a plain bandaid stops him before he can truly reach. He quickly changes his trajectory, deciding to instead torture your hair by ruffling it mercilessly. You wince at him and the bastard chuckles.

“Brats,” the cashier comments as he checks you out, “Get your things and go.” 

“That’s much kinder than what we usually get,” Osamu nods, “Thanks, old man.” 

“I’m not so old!” 

You giggle mischievously as you escape from Atsumu’s hold. 

“Bye-bye, old man!” 

“Hey - !” 

You exit the shop with a bounce in your legs, twins just a few steps ahead. The humble shop called _Sakanoshita_ was so near to the school of kids Atsumu and Osamu bullied it would be a crime to not enter. It meant that you will probably never visit the promised bakery to buy cupcakes or cakes, but you got mochi. And some fun bandaids. 

And some not so fun. 

Atsumu snickers as he waves the aliens' one. Fucker. 

“Lame,” comments Osamu as he crouches down, letting you climb onto his back, “You got the worst one, Tsumu.”

You flash a middle finger at said twin before crawling onto Osamu. Piggyback carry is so much better than princess one. You can hug your friends like that, and who doesn’t love hugs? You throw your arms around his neck, securely wrapping legs all over his body before he can place them around your legs.

“You are the one who is lame, Samu,” grumps back the grumpy one and you giggle as your favorite twin stands up, carrying you like a big baby you are, “And you,” Atsu points at your face, “You have to learn your actions have consequences.” 

You raise your eyes to the heavens. He is so, so stupid. Please, Gods, be kind enough to send lighting and smite this sinner out of the planet. Of course, Gods are silent. Maybe Nietzsche was right and they are dead. Or they just enjoy watching you suffer.

“Why do I have to learn it if you two never did?” you ask him as the twins start to walk in the direction of - well, you guess you head off to the hotel.

“Because we are older, sunshine,” he stretches his limbs lazily before placing his hands on the back of his head.

He didn’t just pull _I’m older_ card on you, did he? He is not that stupid, right?! He wouldn’t. You poke Osa’s throat three times and he dutifully goes to murder his twin. 

“Your arguments suck, Tsumu.”

“Shut up! You are supposed to side with me.”

“I would rather die.” 

You nuzzle up against his neck in satisfaction. How precious of him. It’s a pity that doesn’t stop Atsumu, who flashes a peace sign in total mockery. 

“So, for your punishment,” he continues and you have to cringe at the word. What are you, his three-year-old daughter? 

“That sounds inappropriate,” Osamu reads your mind, “Tsumu, you are so gross - “ 

“Heck, let me talk!” 

“And he is still afraid to curse, pussy.” 

“You know I cannot kick you when you are holding my dear sunshine,” he complains, “You cheater. Don’t use her as a shield!” 

You stink your tongue out at Atsumu, before leaving a chaste kiss on Osamu’s neck. Your friend nearly jolts in surprise and you titter. 

“I like being Sam’s shield,” you tease Atsumu, “He is so warm. And fluffy. And good,” you yawn, “I think I’m tired actually, you know.” 

“No wonder with how fucking hurt you are.” 

And just like that, you return to the awkward silence. Thanks, SamSam. Fuck. You close your eyes, lying your chin on Osamu’s shoulder. Your face hurts, that’s true. And your stomach. And your back. And your everything. But really, they should just, to sound utterly cliche, let it go. 

“He apologized, you know,” you mutter, “Gave me yogurt.”

“You are worth much more than that.” 

Your heart clenches with warmth. Oh. Oh. That’s actually really sweet. You can’t fight back the stupid grin that arrives on your face. 

“Thanks, SamSam,” you whisper into his hair, “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” you can’t see, but you swear he is smiling, “We are going to stay in your room, by the way.”

Child - of - demon - said - what. 

“No!” 

You raise your head and try to shake it before recoiling in pain. Atsumu doesn’t notice, so you are lucky. He would go back to Karasuno to serve the ball into your blueberry’s face otherwise. 

“Hey, Samu!” Atsumu cries at his twin, betrayed, “I was just telling her that!” 

“You can’t even do something like that properly.”

But. But. _But_. That’s unfair! You want your big luxurious bed for yourself! Atsumu drools and Osamu snores when he is hungry. He is always hungry! And you say it as somebody who has basically void instead of stomach! 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you would shake your head, but that would hurt, “You fucking destroyed your room and now you are after mine?” 

“Oh, come one, it will be one big sleepover.” 

You have a sleepover practically every night. 

“I take everything I said back, "And take my room, I’m going to stay in Shinsuke’s.” 

“Don’t you dare!”

* * *

“You found her!” 

Ojiro’s voice wakes you from the daze and you raise your head. Wow. Returning to the hotel is a lot more dramatic than you thought. There are just so many people in the lobby. Nearly the whole team looks to collectively release the breath out of relief. You wave meekly from Osamu’s back in the greeting as you blush a little. It would be, well, nice, if they were here for you, not only because twins’ panic probably set something on fire.

“Osamu, Atsumu,” papa Shinsuke greets in a stern voice, “Why didn’t you contact us?” 

They instantly wince. Losers. 

“We - “ Atsumu tries, but he is instantly interrupted by their captain’s cold words.

“You got so excited that you forgot. Again.”

He taxes them with a nearly disappointed gaze. You would totally take pity on them and take the blame, but they are holding your room hostage. And it’s only because they destroyed their own. You just got there today - Wait, why are you surprised? You should have expected it. It’s a miracle they didn’t mess it up yesterday somehow. 

Under Shinsuke’s gaze tyrants would fall, so it’s not staggering that so do sons of Satan. Being so close to Osa you can see the tip of his right ear reddening. 

“And you, [Name].”

No. Not you. No. No. No. Please. Ugh. You hide behind Osamu.

“You should tell somebody if you are going somewhere.” 

That’s surprisingly gentle, you guess. You probably still have a _new member pass_ to not get a worse reprimand. 

“I’m sorry, captain,” you murmur, actually feeling sorry. If you told somebody then maybe you wouldn’t end with the whole Karasuno clusterfuck. 

Yeah, you got free yogurt and met the Sun himself, but you also have bruises. Your bruises have bruises. The one thing you want to do right now is to drown yourself in the bubble bath. No shower, nu - nu. You need more.

“As long as it will not happen again.”

It probably will. You know yourself. 

“It won’t.”

You will do your bestest. Okay, you will _try_ your bestest. Sometimes your bestest is not enough, but trying is good. It will be your excuse when the time comes. It’s not like Shinsuke is gonna hate you forever if it happens right? Oh, who are you kidding, this is what exactly will happen, you will lose your friend, maybe - a - friend, he will hate you, oh god.

Not knowing your internal thoughts (and thanks goodness for that, as if you need twins to instantly read your mind), Osamu crouches yet again and gently lets go of your legs. You untangle yourself from him and step up. 

Somebody gasps as you revealed yourself from behind twins’ backs. Wow, dramatic much? Shouldn’t they at least pretend for you that there is nothing wrong with - 

Before you can even finish that thought you find yourself suddenly surrendered by the whole-ass team. You want to take a step back, flustered, but you are met with somebody’s hands, gently holding your shoulders. You turn around and see Atsu, smiling softly in encouragement.

“What happened to _you_?” Shinsuke is first upon you, gazing at your face with the intensity you didn’t expect. 

“Did you kill him?” Rin asks and then unexpectedly offers, “I can help you bury his body.”

Atsumu sighs in a long-suffering manner before pointing at you with his thumb accusatively. 

“She didn’t let me.”

You puff your cheeks and cross your arms around your chest in a defensive mechanism. 

“It was an accident!” you argue back and add as you feel the unbelieving glares, “He apologized!” 

“You are just talking like that because he bribed you,” Osamu pats your head, “You should let us go at this fucker.” 

You grimace at him.

“He bribed you?!” Ojiro cries swiftly, “With what?!” 

“She is really easy to bribe,” Atsumu replies in your stead, not even trying to defend your nonexistent dignity, “Just ask RinRin.”

“As a person who has a carefully orchestrated deal with her, I have to ask, how dare you?”

Older Miya twin, only physically though, rolls his eyes, before he looks at Suna with pity.

“You pay her with muffins.” 

“Carefully orchestrated,” you repeat before exchanging high-fives with Rin, “You wouldn’t understand. It’s for smart people, AtsuAtsu.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t really want to be smart if this is what smartness is.” 

“I still would have thought you would do something,” Gintama pries in, “Where are the devils I know?” 

“He scared ‘em shitless,” Osamu yawns at which Gintama furrows his brows, so Osa explains further, “By being trash of course.”

All of the team nods, not needing anything else. 

“Can't believe he is useful sometimes,” Akagi comments as he shoots a cheerful smile at Atsumu. 

“Hey! That was a very cool serve,” he tries to defend yourself and you can’t help it, you nod. 

“It was No - Touch Ace!” you supplement, remembering the name of the move, “They just all looked at this with those silly expressions.” 

Poor Nishinoya and Tanaka, you guess, but it’s not their fault, they all just stood there gaping with open mouths. You don't care about Sawamura. He wanted to kidnap you from Shinsuke.

“We need a little more to go on, Atsumu, Date,” tells you Omimimimimi. Huh, what is he not getting? You look at Atsumu. He looks at you. And you both shrug simultaneously to the groans of the rest of the team and small hiss of your pain. 

“That kid was on the volleyball team. Some small school called Karasuno,” silver head translates, trying to camouflage your whine, “So Tsumu challenged them to stop his serve.”

It seems that it does that, as people start to nod in understanding. They didn’t notice, thanks to the demon. You try to subtly communicate your gratitude with your mind and the better twin sends you a small, worried smile. 

“Well, that ain’t gonna happen,” Akagi gives his opinion, “I have trouble with that serve of yours.”

“Weapon of absolute destruction,” you add proudly, “Atsu - chan is too powerful for this world.” 

“Hey!” he places his arm at your head, “Don’t make me blush, sunny.” 

“Oh, blush for me, volleyball boy,” you tease, “You embarrass me too many times! I can do the same!” 

There are some laughs, while Osamu flashes a peace sign at you, as Atsumu tries to cover his red face. All of it ends, when Kita - the king of Inarizaki - steps up, looking at the three of you with his never yielding gaze. 

“Osamu, Atsumu,” he addresses the twins, and they instantly stiff up, “Good job.”

You chuckle, as those babies instantly become way too red. 

“W – what? Captain, I – “

Aran pats Atsumu’s back, while RinRin kicks Osamu lightly with his knee. Look at this, just look. They have great friends, here, don’t they? You look at Shinsuke and frown when his eyes meet yours.

“[Name], we will take you to the hospital for a check-up.”

Oh, no, not again! Not you too, robo - dad!

No, no, no, no, don’t wanna,” you deflect quickly, and when continue to look, you stomp on the ground, “Nu-nu, no way!” 

“It’s your health,” he argues back, "It's important to make sure there were no lasting injuries."

“But I want to see you play,” you bite your lip, unsure looking for any sort of support in this issue. There’s no one to back you up, though, all of them looking at you with worry, so you grasp the corner of Osamu’s jacket, nervously crumpling it as you lower your gaze, “Please, pretty please?”

What a convincing argument. Yeah, no way Shinsuke will agree –

“If any of us see there is something wrong,” he finally informs the team, “We will instantly stop the match and you will go to the hospital for a check.”

You nearly jump up in surprise, before raising your head and staring straight into Shinsuke’s eyes. He looks, well, a little bit unsure? He is not meeting your gaze, instead choosing to look at Aran, who is sighing heavily. You probably disappointed him. That sucks. You bite your lip. 

“Okay! Okay! That’s completely okay!” you clap your hands excitedly anyway, there’s no way you will argue with that decision, “Sorry for worrying you guys.”

You smile, trying to show that you are okay and there’s nothing to worry about. You probably don’t convince them, because they look at you dubiously, but yeah, what can you do?

To be honest, you are a little moved. They care about it. That’s, that’s, well, that’s nice and you can’t help the blush that colors your cheeks as you beam at them.

After that, you are promptly sent to your (and now twins’) room, where you are finally reunited with the bathroom. Osamu helps you take off bandaids and bandages (you silently say sorry to the girl that worked hard to place them). You don’t take a bath, though, afraid the water will make your bruises sting. It's finally time for your teeth. How nice it feels to finally brush them. Just straight-up happiness. This is probably how drugs feel. 

After that, twins help you with your light injuries again, forcing bandaids and gauzes on your face and stomach. Atsumu ever dares to place aliens’ one on your face. You bite his finger in answer. 

The rest day is spent lazily eating snacks, watching TV, and ignoring Miya twins who somehow dragged the second bed to your room. Sleepover, yay. The time moves very fast and soon, you have to leave to practice. You don’t even have the energy to be whimsical and just take one of Osamu’s shirts (to his amusement, as it’s really, really too big for you) and your volleyball team’s sports attire before sliding into your pretty, pretty shoes. Yeah, those that twins got you. 

You all step into the bus once more, this time only for a while, as you ride to the Sendai’s Gymnasium. Yeah, of course, your school rented the biggest, the most famous and probably the most expensive. Your world is full of suffering. 

You feel dead as twins drag you there. 

You sleep through most of the practice and video analysis the team does. To be honest, you only stand up to refill the bottles. Like, seriously, somehow Rizekai and Haruki know how fucked up you feel and help you with everything, leaving you sitting on the bench - and this one is softer than those at schools, they are cutting costs at them, you just can’t deal with shit - next to eternally suffering Rintarou. 

“Don’t you need to practice, RinRin?” you ask him. 

“Practice is for people who are not me,” he answers you and you are shocked when Kurosu doesn’t cut in.

Okay, whatever you say, then. You dangle your legs, bored, as the team does the receives or tries to - the ones serving are demon twins, using their fluffy floaty serves. Osamu got so much better at them - but still, he misses some, provoking Atsumu to jer at him.

Idiots. 

“RinRin,” you start, not knowing what to say, “Hey, RinRin. RinRin, heyo.” 

“What do you need from me, you nuisance?”

You giggle. Somebody just got softer for you!

“You like your new nickname, don’t you?” you poke him at the nose, “Boop!” 

“No,” he raises his hand and pokes your nose right back twice, “Boop boop.” 

You grin at him, before putting your hands in the air, stretching them. 

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m pretty sure you are always hungry.” 

He knows you pretty well, huh. And you only met like, two weeks ago? It’s pretty cool. Suna is edgelord, and may not like Naruto - but he’s also very funny, with his dark sense.

“I’m going to the vending machine,” you decide and blink when he looks at you, “What? Do you want something?”

“My will to live.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think they sell it,” you stick your tongue out, before heading off. It’s probably fine to go alone - you told Rin where are you going and it’s not so far, right? 

Haha, it will be okay. 

* * *

Yeah, so you just jinxed yourself. 

Again.

Going alone was the wrong choice. You just wanted snacks. You just were hungry. So why the fuck are you being targeted again?

“Hey, cutie,” the pretty boy smiles at you and waves, “Are you lost?” 

Just smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave. You return the gesture hesitantly before shaking your head, ignoring the pain for now. You are somewhat pretty sure you can go back on your own. Maybe. Probably. You may or may not have to contact somebody, but that’s okay, you have your phone, you are an independent woman, you can do this. 

So please, leave.

He doesn’t leave. 

Fuck. 

You blink at him, feeling nauseous. 

Brown hair, brown eyes. In theory, he should be a very forgettable person, because those attributes are so common. He doesn’t ooze this overwhelming chaotic charisma like your friends, and yet there’s something. He looks familiar somehow. Where did you see that pretty face before? Wait, what is he doing? 

You take a step back, as the bastard is way too close. Yeah. Not touching that with the stick. You need your space, _thank you very much_. He doesn’t seem to care, so you take another step, hitting the wall of the hall.

“Don’t be shy,” he smiles and you are pretty sure somebody would swoon at this, “I can help you.” 

You don’t. You are not an idiot. You know how it is supposed to work - you fall for a nice face and follow a stranger into a dark alley to never leave it alive. If he wants to kill you, then he should do this right now, with all those witnesses, who of course don’t react to your visible distress. Don’t you love the diffusion of responsibility? 

Where are the antichrists when you need them? 

The boy tries to pass as non - threatening as possible. Yeah, hard pass. You will stay with your wall over here. Safe and not being murdered a second time in one day. Gee, your Blueberry Cupcake would never treat you like this. 

“I - I’m fine on my own,” you manage to stutter.

Yeah, you’re fine. Or rather you will be fine when that fucker leaves you alone. Oh, you will kick him. Oh god. He uses your airheadedness to attack.

“That’s adorable, you know,” he places his hand at your very personal wall, cutting your escape, oh gosh, he is a serial killer, you met him finally, after fifteen years, oh fuck, that’s not a drill, it’s finally happening, “That little bandaid.” 

He touches your cheek, just where the alien bandaid is. 

So.

This is how it is. 

You are going to die and it’s all going to be Atsumu’s fault. Hope they are going to buy pretty flowers for your grave or you are going back to haunt their asses at Himawari Ryokan. 

And then, comes your salvation.

“Oikawa.” 

The boy before you straight up jumps and turns around, still holding you in the place with your arm. That’s alright, you can use this anyway. Strategic exit, here you go - 

Oh. Wow. So many muscles.

Wait. Is he not this one - Wait, wait, wait! You know those people. You remember where you saw both of them before! The pretty one is the one you are having a match against! He is from Aoba - Aoba - Something! And the second one, Muscle - Man? 

You nearly tilt your head - but you remember it will hurt, so you don’t - in wonder, narrowing your eyes on him. Does he have green hair? It looks green. Or blond? Huh. Is everyone in this world using some strange color dyes? Maybe you should dye your hair too. What color, thought? 

Wait, wait, that’s not important. He is that guy who you are having a match tomorrow, you’re pretty sure he is - 

“Ushiwaka!” 

No! Isn’t his name Ushiyama, Mr. Killer? 

Wait, that’s not important. 

Why is he there? What sort of stupid coincidence is that?! The ones who should meet them are Atsumu and Osamu, not you! You know nothing about volleyball and those supposedly - godly - like players! You just want to see your friends having fun. Why is god joking with you like that? You are good per - wait, no, you are not a good person. You are not even a mostly good person. You are just, eh, person? You are a person who doesn’t deserve this shit. 

“What are you doing?” the man nods at your oppressor, totally ignoring that he spelled his name wrong.

“What are _you_ doing here, Ushiwaka?!” screams at him back, pretty boy. 

Ushiyama, you idiot. He asked you first, you idiot. You would roll your eyes, but you don’t want the pretty boy’s gaze back at you. Like, he is pretty intense and you are away from your boys. You want Atsu and Sam to be here and hold your hand and tell those people to fuck off. Seriously, why did you decide to just go on your own? 

“I came to see Inarizaki’s match.”

He has come to see what now?

Like, you are having a match tomorrow. Couldn’t he wait? Do volleyball players have absolutely no chill? Just, you know, relax and enjoy yourself. You know AtsuAtsu and SamSam did watch several of the other schools’ matches – they made you watch with them, but to go somewhere to spy on them? Like, never. Just no. Too much work.

The pretty boy doesn’t answer, just growl at him. So. This is your chance. You carefully take a step back, now that they are glaring at each other. Are those thunders coming from their eyes? Or at least your assaulter’s face. The muscle – man looks rather calm, even peaceful.

“I think Tendou told me about what you are doing,” Ushiyama nods seriously, “It’s the thing from manga, _kabedon_. But I believe you are doing it incorrectly. Would you like to demonstrate the proper way?"

Oh, oh, oh! You remember kabedon! It was in one of those shoujo’s manga Atsu pretended he didn’t read, being the big loser he was. Wait, that’s what he was doing? Why? Is he drunk or something? 

“No, you idiot!” 

He finally takes his stupid arm from your wall (you just adopted it, it yours, you will sign it up later) and takes a step back, completely immersing himself in Ushiyama’s eyes. Huh, it seems Atsu has a love rival. So sad, you totally will cheer for him.

The pretty boy points his finger straight into his opponent’s face. Wow, much rude.

“Are you afraid, Ushiwaka?! You should be – “ 

Seriously, it’s Ushiyama, get it right, dude. That’s not even so hard, gee. You remember it. You take one more step, now that you are being ignored. Thank you, the Ancient One, that you were allowed to buy your snacks before the Pretty Boy decided to murder you.

“Because after we defeat this _weak_ team from Kansai, you will be next - “ 

You instantly stop, as if frozen. Weak. Weak. Weak, echoes in your head, time and time again. He called Atsu and Sam _weak_. You don’t even know when the words leave your mouth, they simply _do_. 

“ _What the fuck did you just had said.”_

You know that you are easy to anger. Who doesn’t? You start cursing and kicking at the first minor provocation. Your anger is like fire - it burns brightly and expires quickly. The thing? This is not what you feel when those words leave his mouth. No, no, it’s not that familiar anger. It runs deeper than that. Much deeper. 

You would describe it as something sharp, something hard, something cold. It freezes all of the emotions under your skin, leaving only _pure hatred_ running in your veins. Seething loathing, repugnant fury, intense madness. It’s all that is left in you and feeling that being like that at this moment, it’s scary. You can’t help, but think that you could kill the man before you. Not just talk about it, joke about it, but truly kill him. It's such a powerful, terrifying thought. 

“Hey, hey, hey, cutie,” he throws his hands defensively before him, “Why are you getting so riled up? No need to be so hostile, I only –“

“Repeat it,” you demand it, “Look into my eyes and tell me my friends are weak at the sport they have trained for _since they were ten_ ,” you grip your hands tight, your words sneering, “ _At the sport, they dedicated their lives for_.” 

You look straight into his eyes. They are pretty, so, so pretty in that dark mocha color. You wish your nails could pierce through them. 

_Dark mocha color_. The coffee in Osamu’s hand, slowly swirling as he moves his hand in a dark circle. The cream at his lips, the laugh in your throat as you gave Atsumu his drink. Their eyes and cheeks were red. 

_You did your best_ , you said then, trying to speak louder than their teammates, _It’s not your fault. You are not_ \- 

**_Weak._ **

You don’t want to see them like that. Not now. Not even again. Never, never, never, and if the boy before you dares to try, to make them look that again, just like that boy from Sakuragi - 

You will cut him. 

“ _Cutie_ \- “ 

“I will gouge your pretty eyes out,” you smile at him, stopping whatever he wants to say with a raise of your hand, “One after another. Very slowly, I'm a patient person. Stubborn person. I can take my time,” you lean forward and pat him gently on the cheek, “And as you scream, I will force you to eat them. How do you think they will taste? Well, you will be able to tell me before I rip your tongue out of your mouth,” now, you lower your hand, reaching for his shirt and yanking him down to your level with the power of sheer fury, “And then? Well, Romans were _creative_ people. I know my history very, very well.” 

You let him go and take a step before your smile transforms into a sneer. 

“Don’t you fucking dare to call my friends weak again. I won’t hesitate.” 

Throwing your hair over the shoulder, you go, never turning back. 

* * *

(He looks at her, mouth agape, words still echoing through his head.

“She said my eyes were pretty.” 

_It’s such a stupid thing to focus on._

And yet, it lingers. Not the threats, not the intention to hurt, not the intense hate.

He thinks of her, so small and cute, looking so lost, with bandaids with aliens at her face, so innocent and _yet._ And yet. She makes him think of wildfire destroying everything that stands in its path, a merciless force of nature that cannot be stopped.

Her hand yanking the material of his shirt. He found himself closer, so much closer, to her than he should be, and yet, she did not look away. Her eyes, radiating with confidence, with nothing but love and fierce protectiveness for someone he didn’t even know.

Her face was _so close_. And yet, she was _so far_.

Tooru never thought he would be a person that would feel so _out of his league_. He was well-liked, popular. They called him charming and handsome, but the girl before him didn’t care about that. Someone else was on her mind.

The thought spread through his brain like a virus, but he couldn’t react. What would he even do to stop her? She would just burn him.

And then she was gone, her silhouette just further and further, so impossibly out of reach, just like everything Tooru wants. Everything he yearns for.

The scorching flame of her presence disappeared like it was only a vivid dream. He cannot see it anymore, and yet. The sheer memory of it is engraved into his mind forevermore. It’s passion, he discovers, and it’s gone with her.

Passion for somebody else. For somebody else's dedication. Somebody else’s life. Just for somebody else’s. Somehow, the thought hurts. 

_Tooru_ , said Hana as she left him, _You love volleyball too much_.

How much is _too much_? 

The girl he loved and knew, the one that was calming like water and full of adoration. She was soft, and kind, and used to say there is nothing more spectacular than him at the court until she became sick of it, sick of everything Tooru loved. 

The girl he doesn’t love and doesn’t know, the one with words burning like flames and hatred hotter than flames in her eyes. She looked so small and lost, but the moment he suggested the Inarizaki was weak - she was - so - 

Beautiful.

 _He wants to - he wants to -_ he wants to see her again. 

Ushiwaka says something with his insufferable voice, insufferable tone, and insufferable words, but Tooru doesn’t even understand words anymore.)

* * *

MC to Oikawa: So you have chosen death.

You thought twins were protective ones? Uno reverse card. MC may be small and weak, but she knows just the right words :) Hope you enjoyed it lmao. 

The bullying of Oikawa Tooru has begun. I planned it way before putting Oikawa on the Simp List, so he was always supposed to be bullied. But now I can bully him more. Also, wild Ushijima arrives! He will have more time to shine later, don’t worry.

So, this is the chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!


	17. In which nothing can ever happen according to the plan (you really should find a better place for a secret meeting).

Were you ever so angry in your life?

“Get the fuck out of my way, scrubs.” 

The crowd falls before you as Persia did before Alexander. You storm forward, cold rage fueling your every step. Nobody dares to step in your way as you take the route back to the gym. 

You don’t think you were. Not like that. 

You’re still fuming, your fingers pressing the skin of your arms so hard you wouldn’t be surprised to see blood dripping from them. Gosh. You can’t exactly calm down or hunt down the _lowlife_ that dared to insult your _friends_ , so. So. You do the third best thing. 

The doors slam with heavy noise. 

You ignore the curious gazes of your teammates and you launch yourself in the direction of the nearest twin. Atsumu becomes your target. He notices, of course, he does, so he swiftly opens his arms wide open. You jump at him, grasping his shirt, before hiding your face in his chest.

You scream, letting out the fury residing in your veins.

“Okay,” you feel his arms around you, “Who is dead?” 

“Nobody,” you muffle out and when you hear his disbelieving hum, you only clutch his shirt harder, before you reiterate, much more forcefully, “ _Nobody_.”

“Proud of ya’ then,” he murmurs as he gently presses his lips against your hair, “Regret it already, sunshine?” 

You mumble incomprehensibly in affirmation. 

“Just because I didn’t have a weapon.”

"Yeah, yeah…” 

“Don’t worry,” Osamu - because who else than him? - pats your head, “We can still find the offender and throw him into a volcano or something.”

“Into lava,” Tsu chuckles, “Straight to your apartment.” 

“Take it seriously, guys!” you raise your head, “I’m so, so, so fucking angry.” 

Atsumu tries his best not to smile and fails miserably. You scowl and lift your hand, trying to reach to his nose to pull it. He deflects your attack just by lifting his head. You groan before starting to repeatedly hit your head on Atsumu’s chest.

Which hurts, by the way. A lot. Maybe you really should go to the hospital, because you’re pretty sure you got brain damage, but not by being hurled into the concrete. Rather it was interacting with that bitch before that has done the deed. 

“Come here,” you whine, “Down to my level.”

“No.” 

“Oh come on, you giant, that’s not fair!” 

Osamu, being the best person on this cursed plane, decides to help you and pulls his twin brother’s nose in your stead. You laugh at the display, before escaping from the older twin and repositioning yourself strategically behind Osamu. The victim of a sibling’s abuse has the audacity to groan. 

“Come on, you shouldn’t get so angry, my dear sunshine,” Atsumu, as always, has to have the last word. He massages his assaulted nose carefully, “It only makes you cuter, you know. That poor fool probably thought they were attacked by a little fairy.” 

“You’re saying this because you have no self - preservation, Tsumu,” Osa cuts in, “Now, honey, tell me - not Tsumu, he’s too stupid to understand anyway - what happened and who do I have to fight?” 

"Hey, who did you called too stupid to understand, you jerk?”

“You’re too stupid to ever know this?” 

Anger still dances in your blood, but the cold fury from before is gone, leaving behind only adrenaline and never-ending hatred. You are so, so happy that the twins didn’t go with you before.

They were here, protected by people so much more powerful than you. You could return to them and not see broken expressions on their faces. They are _whole_. Your wonderful idiots. If you were given a chance, any person who would stand in the way of their happiness would be already buried six feet deep under the earth. 

You think of the pretty - no, you refuse to call him that even in the safety of your own mind. He may be handsome, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a massive dick. So. Low - life.The lowest of them all. Amoeba? Isn’t this little mean for amoebas? Whatever it will do for now. It even sounds a little like his school’s name. Amoeba was the model, looking exactly like the dude from the team they are supposed to play with. The one you googled! You remember Atsu watching his matches from a year before - supposedly against Ushiyama dude, so their love story had to be the love-hate relationship.

You love your friends/idiots very much. You want them to win every match they are in, but you are not stupid. Okay, you are, but not _that_ stupid. You know it’s impossible to always win. But. But. The thought they will lose against that cocky bastard makes you want to take the bench and beat the shit out of him.

So. You are going to believe it. The power of friendship always wins in anime anyway. What better way to take revenge anyway? If they completely humiliate him on the court, then you can laugh at his face like a villain from anime. 

“Osamu,” you look at him and his expression changes from his familiar indifference to something more serious, as he feels your tone shift, “Atsumu,” you peer at the blond, and seeing his lazy, arrogant smile actually makes you feel a little bit more confident, “If I asked you to destroy somebody at volleyball, would you do this for me?” 

They regard you carefully, trying to inspect your face. So you lift your head, place your hands behind your back like a general commandeering an army, and don’t look away. They have to understand it’s _serious_. 

Osamu is first to relent, nodding without any hesitation.

“I would kill for you,” he simply says as he shrugs his shoulders, “Just say a word.” 

Your grave expression shifts instantly. You can't do it. Your lips morph into a tender smile, and your rigid posture softens. They say the best friend will help you murder somebody. You are pretty sure SamSam would help you bury motherfucker alive. 

" _Simp_ ,” comes the whisper from the side, destroying the lovely atmosphere between the two of you, “You should take your PDA somewhere else before we all lose our eyesight from sheer adorableness. Ugh. You guys are so gross.” 

Oh yeah, you’re still in the semi-public space. You step away from the twins and meet the gaze of Suna, who is yawning at you all, dismissively. Osamu rolls his eyes, before poking you gently with his arm.

“I can start with RinRin,” he proposes easily. You hum in wonder, before shaking your head gently. 

"No, no, no,” you decide with an evil glint in your eye, ”We may need him.”

Osamu nods, before he catches your gaze, now evaluating in what way you can utilize Rin’s abilities in the coming match. The brunette visibly recoils before looking for help.

“No killing Rintarou,” Shinsuke agrees with you, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, “He is a valuable member of our team. What happened, [Name]? You look agitated.” 

Agitated is a very gentle way to describe the state of your mind, but this is Shinsuke - you would probably agree with him if he decided that the sky is green. So you nod slowly, as he judges the way you _definitely don’t wince from pain_ at the slightest movement. 

“Dad, dad, dad,” Tsu starts, not knowing when he should stay quiet, “Is killing a person who angered [Name] a fair game?”

Kita moves his gaze to your friend, not even flinching at the stupid words.

“I’m not your father, Atsumu.”

“Luke Skywalker was crying from happiness as he heard that,” Rin comments idly. You cover your mouth as you giggle. Meanwhile, Atsumu sighs, defeated, as he places his hands on his waist.

“Rejected again,” he mockingly shakes his head in disappointment, “Nobody wants to adopt us, it seems, Samu.”

“Mission failed,” Osamu nods, “We’ll get them next time.” 

They cower under Shinsuke’s glare. Stupid idiots. 

“Maybe you should focus on practice rather than saying ridiculous things,” he would totally roll his eyes if he wasn’t Shinsuke, “[Name]?”

What did you do this time?

“Did somebody say you,” he stops for a while as if he is unsure how to continue, but you know it’s not it. That’s Shinsuke, duh, “Did somebody say something unpleasant to you?” 

Yeah. Yeah. Very, very unpleasant. You wrinkle your nose in disgust, and expressions of boys before you instantly change. They become more solemn, taking your problem now seriously, so you decide to explain further. 

“There was this plankton of a human being. Literal amoeba. Parasite of the society at large,” you tell them, “And he - ugh. So disgusting. He said something that angered me. So I threatened to kill him, and well, he may or not be on the team you are playing against? Just maybe? Please don’t be mad.” 

You swear the only sound in the gym is the ball dropping dramatically on the floor. The only person who can and does react, is Atsumu, because that’s your friend, duh. 

“Wait, captain,” he says, arrogance practically oozing from him, “So we can kill this little shit?” 

Shinsuke doesn’t answer and avoids your gaze. You straight-up twinkle at him with admiration as he remains silent. That’s so sweet! He would let somebody go away with murder for you! 

You are friends. You are totally friends with him. 

“This is why he is the king, you know, Atsu,” you point this up to your childhood friend, “And you are trash can. _Trash can_.” 

“At the bottom of the lake,” Osamu helpfully adds. 

“I’m going to give you both up for adoption,” Atsumu decides to shake his head. You pop your lips, but before you can react, Osamu answers, taking your hand into his. 

“You can’t, the captain doesn’t want us.”

“He doesn’t want you, SamSam!”

"Yeah. And we're a deal package.”

Ojiro stops near you and pats Shinsuke with sympathy. Yeah, dealing with you all had to be hard. Suna sighs like a martyr before, wow, is he standing up from the bench? What sort of holiday is this? 

“Why do you have an existential crisis every five minutes anyway?” he asks unkindly, and you roll your eyes. 

“Because life is pain.” 

“Cheers, I will drink up to that.”

He takes the bottle that was hidden under the bench. Huh, you are nearly sure you didn’t see this one before. Your eyes narrow at the words that don the plastic. That can’t be right. Or maybe, knowing Suna… Well, you can ask. 

“RinRin,” you bring your finger to your lips in silent wonder, “Why is there a word _bleach_ written on your bottle?”

“It’s not actually a bleach, right, Rin - kun?” Atsumu looks at your friend who very slowly, very awkwardly steps back. 

“Maybe?” he lies, looking straight into your eyes as he places the affronted item behind his back. 

“Oh my god, Rintarou!” Aran hastily moves next to him. The said bottle is confiscated by the team's mom as Rin pouts like a grumpy cat.

You titter, feeling the light, warm feeling fill your chest. Huh. Your anger is gone as you watch those ridiculous people interact. 

Like always, everything is crushed by reality. The doors open, this time not being slammed by the angry demon (that’s you). The people who step in are looking more like a boy band than a volleyball team, in their cute little uniforms. For a second, you see soft mocha dark locks and so, you do what every sane person would do. You very deliberately don’t look in that direction, instead choosing to hide behind the person you trust the most. Shinsuke, please _, protect_. 

“Hey, demons,” coach Kurosu warns you as he stands up with Oomi to greet newcomers, “Stop being yourself for the next five minutes. Kita, come with us.” 

No! Not _Shinsuke_! You nearly cry, when he sends you an apologizing gaze as he steps up. Okay, okay, okay. Twins cannot be trusted, you can see their mischievous gazes. Don’t trust the devil. Never. So that leaves only one person. 

You evacuate yourself behind Aran. 

“Ojiro - senpai, if there is any kindness left in your heart, please, don’t move,” you whisper to him. He in turn looks very, very confused. 

“What are you talking about?”

You ignore the inquiry and lean from behind his back. 

“Oh, there he is,” you hiss, “Tsu, Osa, Rin, come here, you little shits.” 

The bitch doesn’t even look afraid. Or moved. Just smiling fakely at Shinsuke and your coaches. Bitch. Bitch. _Fucking bitch_. Get away from him, he is too good for you to look at. 

The twins, being good boys, join you quickly, while it takes a second longer to get lazy Suna behind Ojiro, who - in his honor - stands very still, helping you being sneaky. So, the four of you are now all leaning from behind Aran, watching the boy band. Being all sneaky sneaky like a ninja. 

“That’s him,” you whisper in a conspiratorial tone, “That’s the fuckboy.” 

“He looks like fuckboy,” the silver-head agrees instantly, “Let’s break his bones.”

"You can’t break somebody’s bones at volleyball,” Ojiro warns you all, causing some eye movement, “That’s against the rules.”

Rules. Pff. _Rules_. 

“Rules are made to be broken,” blond twin explains patiently, “Just like fuckboy’s bones.”

The three of you, possessing collectively two brain cells - one is yours, one is twins - unanimously agree at this. 

“Break bones,” you repeat his words carefully, before you give him a thumbs up, “I like this plan. Can you serve straight into his face? That killer serves, a fluffy one.” 

“Only for my sunshine,” he nods quickly, smiling at you, “Straight into his ugly face.”

“I need popcorn for this,” Rin comments, not knowing how severe the situation is, “And maybe some bleach. Aran, please, hand me over my elixir of life.”

“I’m not giving it back to you!” he shouts and you grimace, before sharing a look with twins. He is going to alert everybody to your presence. 

“Shhh!” the three of you simultaneously silence them, looking at them with irritated glares. 

“We are having a secret meeting, Aran!” Atsu supplies helpfully, “You can’t just out us like that!” 

“Secret meeting behind me?!” Momjiro doesn’t understand it, looking flabbergasted, so you rush with explanations. 

“You are tall, Ojiro - senpai,” you smile at him. Here, now everything should be okay, as he knows the logic behind your action. It doesn’t seem to help, though, as he opens his mouth again. 

“Twins are nearly as tall as me!” he disagrees, and yeah, he has a point, but - he shouldn’t say that. He really shouldn’t. You wrinkle your nose. 

He just did, though. It means - 

“Not Tsumu, he is like, one centimeter less.”

That. The stupid argument over stupid the thing. 

“Hey, Samu, stop holding this one centimeter over me! It’s nearly nothing!” 

“You hold your five minutes over me constantly, you damn hypocrite.” 

“Five minutes without you is like an eternity!” 

“One centimeter you are shorter than me feels like a galaxy.” 

“You bastard!” 

“Hey!” the voice of the coach shocks you all, “What did I tell you? Five minutes. Pretend to be normal. You can’t do anything without Kita, can you?!” 

“That’s Tsumu’s fault!”

“My fault?! Who started talking about centimeters?!”

“That’s because you can’t accept the reality.” 

“I will show you the reality, Samu!” 

“Reality is,” you sneer at them, “That you both are so, so stupid, I’m starting to think Shouko - san dropped you like children.”

“She totally did that to Tsumu.” 

"She did not, she loves me way more than you!” 

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” comes in Gintama’s voice, “Look at them, they are going to cancel this match now.” 

“Fuck you!” you three scream at him instantly, completely jeopardizing the secret meeting.

Yeah, that was stupid, but there’s no way he could actually recognize you only after your voice. He probably doesn’t care, so you can continue plotting your revenge without any problem whatsoever, you just have to hide behind Aran again. Yeah, it’s fine! Totally fine. Haha. 

“Oh, that’s Cutie I told you about, Iwa - chan!”

You hate your life. 

_Satan. Lord of Darkness._ _Why did you leave me_? You think dramatically as the low life waves at you. The two demons at your side whip their heads in the direction of the voice. You scream into the silence of your mind. You would really prefer it if he didn’t see them. Didn’t see you. They would massacre him at the court, and then he would know what a fool he was, insulting them like that. But. He looks at you. He looks at them, and _you can’t take it_. 

The memory of their faces. You cannot stand it. You bite down on your lip, feeling anger entering your body again. Get away from them, bitch. They are _yours_ and you will fight for them. There is only one way to answer him, to get rid of him, and if you have to embarrass yourself, let it happen.

“Fuck off, your trash,” you scorn at his ugly, ugly face, “Trashiest trash, the absolute scum of the earth, the disgrace of the humankind, go away, you dick, nobody even likes you - “

“Oh, you don’t have to be shy, that’s alright!” he straight up brightens at your words, what the fuck is wrong with people these times, why do they like when you insult and curse at them?! “I didn’t have time to ask for your name before, you disappeared so fast. I’m so happy I met you again. Let’s exchange numbers later, okay?” he winks at you.

He winks at you. He winks at you. _He winks at you._

You. You think you may be a nuclear reactor because you experience something you can only express as a meltdown. Everything just. Melts inside of you. Leaving radioactive waste behind. You hope you will at least give Amoeba Acute Radiation Syndrome. 

You look at Osamu to register what’s happening, and well. He is definitely having a strong opinion about fuckboy. You can only describe his face as bloodthirsty. Or maybe murderous? There is something dark and cruel in his normally tender eyes. Atsumu is not better, but he decides to go another route. He dons his most perfect, most insincere smile, masking his hostility, passive-aggressive bitch that he is. 

They are going the homicidal route. Oh god, you wish you were able to. _He winked at you_. How do you react to something like that? Somebody give you How To Human 101, because just what are you supposed to do? Scream. You feel like screaming. You could definitely scream loud, but you doubt it would stop the lowest of the low for long. Running away then? Not without twins, oh no, oh no, no, no. 

The worst of it all? Rintarou is completely oblivious to all of your struggles happening, raising his phone at Amoeba to film the incoming massacre. 

“You’ve just yeet’d your last hawt,” he says monotonously, and now you feel like crying, “Wow, I can’t believe we’re going to see Miya demons actually go to the prison. I waited for this for so long.” 

“You’re so funny, Rin - kun!” Atsumu claps the black-haired one’s shoulder, his smile still persistently staying on his face, “I think I may have trouble with hearing. There’s no way I heard that correctly, right, Samu?”

“Yeah, that’s just our imagination,” Osamu nods slowly, giving fuckboy a chance to survive this ordeal, “We really have to stop going to sleep so late, Tsumu.” 

You wish you had this kind of denial.

Because. Because. Because. Hejustignoresthemandiscoming _straight at you._ Oh, gods. Cthulhu, is that a trial for you? Because you are definitely losing it. Wait. Okay, okay, okay, [Name], don’t panic. In and out, in and out, _breathe_. Close your eyes. Just say your numbers. It's probably an illusion and he will be gone when you open them. Yeah, yeah, yeah. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

You open your eyes, feeling a little bit better. And he just appears in your view. Like, taking all of your views. He is way, way too close. Sir, my personal space is very important, please step away. You blink again. He is still here.

He is not a mirage your haunted mind created. Okay, time to panic. Panic a lot.

“My name’s Oikawa Tooru,” he smiles at you, “Feel free to call me Tooru. So, Cutie, what’s your name?”

You process what he said. Very slowly. Time and time again. And still not understand. At all. You told him that you will torture him and kill him in a gruesome way. And. He wants your name. Why? Does he want to sue you? Can he sue you? Oh god, he totally can. Is this what it is about?! Now, it makes sense, gosh. He may think that he can seduce you, but oh, no, you know better, you will not let him. You open your mouth, ready to say something insulting, but before you can you see your friends moving. 

Atsumu steps in front of you, hiding you from brown eyes at the same time as you feel a strong hand yanking you away. It’s Sam, just like always, the first to back you up. They are both here to protect you. He just gently pulls you into his arms, glaring at Amoeba in front of you. 

Should you be angry at that? That they think you are pitiful enough to be protected? Maybe. You are not. You need their help, and they - they provide it like always. You lean on them so much. 

“Excuse me,” Tsu smiles at him in the way that makes you think of a cat toying with its prey, “You are talking to my friend over here.” 

The lowest of the low doesn’t escape under your friend’s thunderous glare, which is - to be honest - a little bit impressive. You would probably run if Atsu looked at you like that, but he never does, duh. It’s not like you are going to say it aloud, though. 

You want Shitty gone as well. 

“Oh, don’t worry, _Mr. Friend_ , I will not take your spot,” he dares to wave his hand at your friend with disinterest, the absolute bitch, “I’m interested in something different.” 

Yeah, he is after your money! He just fucking confessed to it! You growl at him and he shoots you a quick smile before returning to trying to kill Atsumu with his gaze.

“Fight, fight, fight,” comes Suna’s uninterested voice, “I’m betting thousand yen on the blond one.”

Several other voices raise. You look around and pale. So many people. So many unknown people. And are there people on the stands? How did they get in without you noticing, and why are there so many of them?! 

“I’m not taking this bet, I want the blond one to win as well.”

“Beat his ass, blondie, he deserves it!” 

“Yeah, just going after a girl just like that? That’s low even for you, Trashykawa.”

“Hajime, do you have any popcorn?” 

“Shinsuke, shouldn’t you stop them?”

“I’m interested in how this ends.” 

“ _Shinsuke_!”

You look to the crowd and see all of their eyes just looking at the dramatic scene. You are pretty sure coach Oomi is eating popcorn, not even pretending to want to stop any of them. Your school can suck or be totally cool. You are not sure which one it is right now. 

“Don’t think you understand, _Mr. Out Of His Damn League_ ,” answers him calmly Atsumu, ignoring the ruckus around him, “My friend is not interested in _losers_.” 

Yeah, tell him! You are not interested in whatever he is selling! You nod furiously, ignoring the pain the motion caused. Osamu takes another step back, dragging you even further away and you can’t help the relief you feel at this gesture. 

It seems Amoeba is much more interesting in getting back at you than talking shit about your wonderful friends, which means you can’t just leave everything in your friend’s capable hands. You and Osamu can just disappear into nothingness, maybe eat some snacks - 

Osamu’s grip around you is so tight. You grimace and lift your head at him. He doesn’t even look at you, too much invested in the argument before the two of you. Without much thought, you pinch him in the chin. 

“Sam - chan,” you whisper, “He is after the money.”

He blinks, before looking at you with total bewilderment.

“What?”

“My money,” you supply helpfully, trying not to bob your head, afraid it will make you scream in pain. When Osamu continues to gaze at you blankly, you roll your eyes and add, “He wants to _sue_ me.”

He is quiet for the second.

“Oh my fucking god,” he breathes out, shaking his head, before he squeezes you tighter, as if afraid to lose you. His gentle eyes find you and he whispers against your ear softly, “You are dense, honey.” 

What. You wrinkle your nose in confusion.

"Dense? No, I’m smart. Did you see my grades?“ 

SamSam only exhales again, as if he is not able to understand just how stupid you are. It’s very damn rude, so you roll your eyes again, before attaching them to Atsumu again. He still looks as confident as ever, even if his smile is strained and full of unvoiced violent thoughts.

"Huh, bold words coming out of somebody who didn’t win,” Amoeba mocks him and you growl like a wild animal, “Aren’t you too arrogant, _Mr. Only A Friend_?” 

Oh, you little fuck. What is he suggesting? You have more friends than one, but even if you didn’t, Atsu is nothing but the best. 

Your friend doesn’t frown at the insult, only smiles ever wider, as he leans closer to Amoeba, vain and proud. His words are carefully mocking, don in venomous disdain. 

“I just know a _scrub_ when I see one.”

Atsumu liked calling people scrubs. You don’t even where he picked up such a word, but he used it since first grade in your middle school, always smiling, always antagonizing. People always reacted differently. 

Sometimes it caused a fight that you and Sam joined without hesitation. There is something about it, his tone or his arrogant eyes, that seems to provoke, to awake the worst in others. 

Shittykawa is no different. The expression of the living plankton changes from this revolting, carefree smile to an actual sneer. 

“ _You little brat_.” 

Your fingers tap nervously at Osamu’s still holding your arm. Amoeba’s eyes sharpen, his tone becomes cutting, and you want nothing more than to kick him into oblivion. Your Atsumu doesn’t look impressed, only smiles wider, as if he was waiting for it. 

You feel like you have to interfere now. You will not stay aside if he decides to punch your friend. Stupid arguments and power plays are one thing. Fighting means all bets are off, though. Before you can interject, someone else does. 

Somebody slams an open palm at his head, actually shocking him into silence. You start clapping slowly but are ignored promptly by the boy.

“What the hell are you doing, Shitty Oikawa?!” he screams, as the three use your shared brainpower to tilt your heads at the same time in the confusion, “We’re here to play the match, not to fight!” 

“It hurt, Iwa - chan!” Amoeba shrieks, “Why are you so brutal?!” 

“Because you deserve it, Shittykawa!” 

“Hey, don’t start shortening your insults again, Iwa - chan!” 

The boy in question doesn’t answer, just takes _Shittykawa (_ oh, [Name] is going to remember this nickname, it’s so neat) by his collar and starts dragging him away.

You share a gaze with twins. You can’t help what happens next. It seems Atsu can’t as well, as he follows you into uncontrollable laughter. You are pretty sure you are the only reason you don’t find yourself on the floor, dying from laughter, is because Osamu still holds you tightly. 

“H - he was acting so high and mighty, and then - “ 

“F - fucking can’t, so anticlimatic - “ 

“So lame,” Osamu agrees, although his tone is still grave, barely restraining the anger, “Get yourself lost, fucktard.” 

You try your best to stop the fit of your laughter because you want to flip Shittykawa off with Osa. You are not able to, as you think you are about to die if you stop holding your stomach. Sam does it instead of you and you are infinitely grateful for this. 

You nearly even can stop for a second. For the second. Then Shittykawa’s expression becomes absolutely comedy gold and you throw your head back with a laugh that rings loudly in your mind. Atsumu doesn’t help as he probably can see the same and starts squirming with laughter even more. 

“Wow,” Rin comments dryly, “I need to find myself friends my age.”

“You’re the same age as them, Suna,” Gintama responds, “Wait, did you call them friends?” 

RinRin doesn’t answer the second question. You can’t see what he is doing, but it feels like he points his finger at you. 

“Are you sure they are?”

“Yeah, okay, you have a point.”

Your stupid snickering probably doesn’t help the cause, but it’s what breaks Osamu. He finally lets go of his mask of indifference and joins your circus of laughter. 

Meanwhile, Shittykawa is finally dragged far away from you and your boys, you see through your tears of joy. He stands before coaches and Shinsuke, pouting and sulking like the bitch he is, which makes your laugh even harder. 

“I’m sorry about him,” the boy tells your captain, “He is stupid like that.” 

“Hey, Iwa - chan, why are you calling me stupid?!”

“Because you're stupid, you idiot!” Iwa - chan answers. Wow, you think you like him. He is little like not - so - cool Kita, dealing with this stupid bitch and dragging him where he belongs - away from you, that’s it. 

“That’s alright,” Shinsuke interrupts them, his tone completely contrasting to his gentle words. He is sharp and cutting, cold robo - dad you know and love. 

His brown eyes are freezing ice. The atmosphere of the gym changes. Even you and the twins feel it from here and stop laughing, bringing yourself from the floor to look at the spectacle before you. You are, of course, helped by Osamu, who is never going to stop being an absolute angel. 

Shinsuke _judges_ Oikawa Tooru like the cruel God of Death, leaving him petrified under his merciless glare. It’s hard to breathe, the air is so filled with tension, as the captain of the Inarizaki’s Volleyball Team challenges his opponent and _wins_. 

“I would prefer if you left our manager alone, Oikawa.” 

Amoeba sweatdrops, actively avoiding Kita’s gaze. It seems even his absolute idiocy is falling against the might of Inarizaki’s one and only king. The three of you cheer Kita's name in unison.

* * *

Atsumu vs Oikawa part 1 :) Hope you enjoyed it, lmao, as the heroine dumbly observes. My dumb girl is just so dumb when it comes to people. And Osamu tries not to commit a crime. He totally would, if Atsumu wasn't here to take care of their little problem himself.

So, Seijoh vs Inarizaki finally next chapter? Possibly, will do my best. Will be fun, because Inarizaki is a little agitated. Just a bit. Kita may want to kill a bitch, tho. And you know, I bully Oikawa, but I like him, my little pouty baby. It just gonna be a little hard for him to get to MC, lmao.

Hope you enjoyed it :) Stay safe everybody and have a wonderful day!


	18. Inarizaki vs Seijoh: Of princesses, kings and emperors.

The line to the entry of the gym is ever so slowly decreasing. It’s a little absurd how many people he sees, all of them clustered next to the door, waiting to watch a practice match. Tobio covers his mouth as he yawns, tired of just standing by, doing nothing. He wishes they could just get in and watch the coming match. Match of Inarizaki, one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. The match where he will be able to see the blond, the brilliant server from before, play.

Hinata bounces on his feet impatiently next to him. 

“The gymnasium is so _big_ ,” he murmurs in amazement, “And we’re going to see the center court!” the tangerine smiles brightly at that, before frowning at Tobio, “Aren’t you excited at all, Kageyama?!” 

Excited? About Sendai Gymnasium? Tobio thinks about his prior experience on the center court. His last match on Kitagawa Daiichi’s team. The toss that got ignored. Sitting on the bench as his (no longer his, not truly, not after this) team lost to another one. Shame and guilt, intervened together on the bottom of his stomach (and fear, fear, because it will happen forever, no matter what Hinata claims). 

_Aren’t you excited, Kageyama?_

No. Not really.

“I saw it before,” Tobio answers simply, not wanting to go into details again, “It’s not a big deal.”

The shorter boy instantly stiffens up as if Tobio just offended his whole family or has spilled the milk. He frowns. There is no way Tobio would ever commit the sin of _spilling the milk_. 

“Of course you did,” Hinata says waspishly, before raising his head and screaming defiantly, “I will not lose to you, Kageyama! I will play here as well!” 

“We’re on the same team,” he points up, “If you play here, I do too, you moron.” 

“I will play here without you then! And just like that, I will play more times than you!” 

Irritation flares up in him, as the word strike cord to his competitive side. He turns around and can’t help the childish remark that escapes from his mouth. 

“ _Then_ I will play without you one more time!“

Hinata stomps before him, but before he can retort, they are stopped by the malicious presence. 

“Kageyama, Hinata, calm down.” 

They both whip their heads and turn straight into Karasuno Volleyball Team’s captain, Sawamura. He is sending them that _smile_ , the one which never fails to leave shivers on Tobio’s neck, and so they fall into silence instantly, not wanting to agitate the third - year any further. Sawamura stops smiling, nods at them, and flips his head back to the line.

There are still several people before them, staring curiously at them after Hinata's loud proclamation. But there are a lot fewer of them now. They are finally getting closer and closer to the door, to the gym, to the match, to Inarizaki.

“I - I - I still don’t know what I’m doing here,” stutters a man in front of him, “I - I’m not a member of the volleyball team anymore.” 

He finds him a little bit strange. Nishinoya called him the Ace of the team, and yet Tobio never saw him in practice before. Their first meeting was yesterday. It happened by accident when they were visiting Sugawara with Hinata. 

He didn't look anything like other aces he heard about. Not like famous Ushijima, not like Iwaizumi who is Seijoh's ace, not like any other ace he has ever encountered. He was just so _mellow_. Maybe he is not loving volleyball anymore, claimed his upperclassman.

Not loving volleyball? Tobio can’t imagine it.

“You know, it will be good for you to watch a volleyball match,” Sawamura smiles at Azumane as he pats his back, “The last time you saw one was a long time ago, right?” 

“Daichi - san is right, Asahi - san!” Nishinoya is swift to agree, “Stop being such a wuss! You weren’t here to see that serve and you have to see it to recreate it. You’re our Ace after all!” 

“I - I’m really not - “ 

“You are, Asahi - san! You’re _our Ace_!” 

That _serve_. The reason they are being here, waiting for their turn to enter the center court’s stands. The blond, smiling at them mockingly, taunting them, showing them how far they are behind, sparking rivalry he doesn’t know about yet. 

_Inarizaki High_ , said Date as she looked around dazed. The school that was in nationals last year, and the year _before_. The dream of every volleyball player grasped so many times. And that player, one of the twins, with a lazy smile on his face.

His posture, his movements, the force behind the blow, the accuracy he displayed. His serve was _perfect_. It is easy to think the blond is better than Oikawa. Tobio doesn’t know how to feel about it - there is excitement, of course. He wishes to play against him, stand on the court, and _win_. But. There is part of him that - that doubts.

He hates it.

Tobio can’t even reach Oikawa now, and the blond from before is the symbol of everything he ever wanted. How far beyond the reach is he, then? He has to know. Tobio wants to see him play. Tobio wants to see the _national level team_ play (and if there’s part of him that longs to see [Name] Date as well, he ignores it profoundly). 

As he thinks, their turn finally arrives. So they move, with Tanaka and Nishinoya’s crying excitedly at this. What greets them is not any sort of receptionist, though, but a boy, not much older than Kageyama. 

“Hello,” he smiles at them politely before introducing himself, “I’m representative of Inarizaki Volleyball Committee, appointed by president Kizuchi, approved by Headmaster of our school here to oversee that rules of Inarizaki High are respected on the stands,” he bows before them, as he shows strange-looking ID, “My name is Saito Takeru, it’s pleasure to meet you.” 

“Hello,” Sawamura returns the smile, “Is there a problem?” 

“No, no, of course not,” Saito answers swiftly, “There are several rules we are supposed to inform all of the attendees.”

“Conditions about attending an unofficial match?” 

“The Committee knows about how, hm, unconventional our actions are,” Saito is quick to say, “But such traditions of Inarizaki are. We would kindly ask you to adhere to them if you wish to see the match.”

“Huh?” Tanaka raises his voice, “What rules?” 

Saito ignores the question and as if on cue, the man in dark sunglasses, wearing a suit and wireless earphones passes them. He salutes Saito and the boy returns the gesture before continuing.

“People who don’t obey those conditions will be asked to leave premises,” when all of them choose to be silent, he nods, “During serve times there is to be absolute silence. Talking during the game is permitted, as long as you are quiet during serves.” 

That's a strange rule. Tobio knows sometimes you can be distracted by chatter around you during your serve, but never heard of somebody enforcing something like that. 

“We don’t allow the audience to film matches,” Saito drones on, "You can buy official video on the Committee’s shop.” 

Huh? Tobio thought there is a non-written rule about not filming _any_ practice matches. Committee’s shop? Selling those? It seems like their competitors would have an easier time studying the movements of the team with something like that. This means Inarizaki is really confident. 

“All of the income proceeds to go to charity,” Saito tells them when he finds several glares at his figure, “We take no profits from the hard work of our players. This is not what the Committee does.” 

“Not to the volleyball team?” Sugawara questions, “Don’t they need it?”

“No,” Saito only shakes his head, “Our headmaster is very adamant about paying for everything the team needs himself.” 

When no further questions arise, he resumes. 

“The last rule. In no way and shape, we condone any harassment of the players when they are not on the court. If we will see or hear about people following, insulting, or hurting any of them we will contact authorities,” he informs, “The same goes for other things: no photos, no autographs, no talking, no giving presents. If you want to interview one of them, please, contact our headmaster first.” 

Huh, makes sense, he guesses. Every school had to be different. 

“If you agree to the rules established by the Inarizaki Volleyball Committee, signed and approved by President Kizuchi and headmaster of Inarizaki School, you are free to enter. If not, we kindly ask you to leave. That is all.” 

Sawamura blinks at the Committee’s member before slowly nodding as if he is being unsure. Saito smiles brightly in the answers and takes a step back, beckoning them with his hand to the doors. 

They go in, Sawamura leading them with little hesitance. The gym is full of people, so finding the seat is a little bit difficult - but his upperclassmen are capable people, and after a few moments they finally find someplace to sit. 

Both of the teams are already on the court, warming - up. The familiar sight of Aoba Johsai’s members makes his stomach lurch uncomfortably. Oikawa, the brilliant setter he is, commands his attention at once. He looks to be in his top condition, though he seems to be somewhat stressed if the way his shoulders stiffen is to tell. 

Even his tosses - those accurate, never wavering tosses that Tobio respected so much look to be a little bit _off_. No, no way, Tobio frowns. He can’t even imagine Oikawa being nervous. Maybe he is angry? But what would the other team do to let him lose his temper so fast? 

He looks away, facing Inarizaki’s team at once and he finds himself blinking with disbelief. While Aoba Johsai is stretching, Inarizaki’s volleyball team decided to instead - well, he is not sure what they are exactly doing.

“Are they dancing to Michael Jackson’s _Thriller_?” Sugawara questions, his voice as bewildered as Tobio felt.

“What is _Thriller_?” he asks, tilting his head, “Is that something from volleyball?”

His team burst into laughter, to Tobio’s neverending confusion.

“You don’t know Michael Jackson?!”

“Of course the King wouldn’t know such a thing. He doesn’t have a brain, only volleyball in its place.”

“That’s so mean, Tsukki.”

“Kageyama - kun, you are so stupid!”

At this, he whips his head and goes instantly after Hinata.

“Who are you calling stupid, you idiot?!”

Before they can start fighting again, Sawamura sends them a threatening gaze. The glare makes both of them stop, as they turn away from each other. Sawamura is scary sometimes. Or rather always. Tobio wouldn't like to be on his bad side.

“It’s a song, Kageyama,” Sawamura explains kindly and when he sees his bewildered gaze, he continues, a little bit unsurely, “From the USA.”

“Why should I know about him? I’m Japanese.”

He hears somebody groan, but before he can act on it, the voice from the court across the gym. Before his dancing, Tobio presumes, teammates now stand a boy, not so much older than Tobio, with white hair.

“If you have time to play around, then start exercising,” he says to his suddenly frozen in the fear team, "Suna, I see you trying to escape, stop right now.

It’s strange how the boy from Inarizaki can be heard so clearly in the gym full of people when he is not even talking so loud. Tobio blinks as the girls nearby cry in excitement like they used to do whenever they saw Oikawa.

“Oh, Kita – senpai is so cool!”

“He is truly Inarizaki’s king!”

“I hope we see him playing today!”

Tanaka and Nishinoya instantly zero in on him.

“Kita - senpai, right?” Tanaka is the one to start, his face forming an intimidating smile, “I don’t like him already.”

“Pretty boy,” Nishinoya nods and Tobio swears there is a fire in his eyes, “I will not lose to him!” 

As if the said boy heard them, he shoots them a death glare that easily rivals the one Sawamura has, silencing them without a word before offering the hand to the fallen on the ground Date. Huh, was she in the dancing group as well? He didn't notice her.

“Oh, look, that's [Name]!” Nishinoya brightens at once, “She looks so much better now!”

“Yeah, thank goodness,” Sugawara nods, though Tobio can’t help but think it's a little bit less genuine than the words Sugawara would normally utter. 

He can’t blame him, not truly. There comes the silence between all of them as they remember what happened in the morning when Tobio accidentally tripped over the girl.

He finds himself naturally shifting his eyes to Date on the court anyway. She looks much, much better than before - the daze in her eyes seems to be gone as she pretty much sparkles with joy and presents a brilliant smile at the white-haired boy. He swears there are stars in her eyes as she answers the boy’s question. 

Tobio cannot hear what she says, but he can clearly see she looks well. Her bruised face is partially hidden behind bandaids, and the movement of her head seems to be a little too stiff, but she is moving and talking normally. He nods to himself, feeling guilt in his chest to ease a bit. She looks fine. 

She doesn’t notice them, neither does the white-haired one, too absorbed in their conversation. They are seen by somebody else though - as the white-haired boy's gaze leaves them, the two heated stares of the twins come straight at them. They completely ignore the spoken command, instead deciding to go straight to the girl. The blond’s eyes never leave Tobio’s as he throws his arm around Date’s waist to her utter delight. 

Annoyed - and feeling like he lost something - Tobio averts his eyes.

“Do you think she is dating that punk?” comes Tanaka’s voice and Tobio nearly chokes on the air, “They are awfully close.“ 

“I hate him,” Nishinoya agrees without blinking, “We will definitely defeat them at the nationals!” he slaps Azumane’s back, “So watch carefully, Asahi - san!” 

“I told you, I - I’m not - “

“No excuses, Asahi - san!” 

This is the moment when he decides to ignore the banter of his teammates and wait for the match. It takes a little time and more people to arrive in the stands, before Aoba Johsai’s warm-up and _whatever_ Inarizaki is doing ends (this definitely doesn’t look like volleyball to Tobio). The two teams bow before each other, and at least, it starts. 

Seijoh is serving first. Tobio is not surprised to see Oikawa on the end line as the person to be the first server of the day. He tosses the ball in the air - and Tobio has to fight back an appreciative sound that wants to fall off his lips. His senior’s posture is nothing short of art. As his hand touches the ball, the time seems to slow - before it accelerates and leaves Inarizaki’s team stunned. 

_Service Ace_ , something that shouldn’t surprise Tobio as much as it did. He just didn’t expect that after the blond’s display from before that Inarizaki wouldn’t be able to receive it. Nonetheless, Seijoh’s team bursts into joy before the second serve. 

The ball is passed swiftly enough and Oikawa tosses it into the air again, before slamming it harshly. It goes straight to the libero, who receives it but with little difficulty.

“Sorry, it's a little short!” 

The blond _moves_. This is nothing short of the ideal first step, he knows. Tobio leans forward, waiting to see more. It's hard to judge somebody else’s toss when he doesn’t know players - what he notices, though, is how easy it is for the spiker to hit it above the kill block that formed near the net. 

He hears Date's voice between the screams of the audience.

“Nice murder, Ojiro - senpai!” 

Shouldn’t it be a _nice kill_? Huh, if he thinks about it, she said something similar after the blond’s serve, but - 

Wait, he shouldn’t be focusing on her. Frowning, he looks back to the court as the voices of Inarizaki players go wild at this. One of the twins high fives the spiker, who seems to be rather irritated, before the grey-haired twin says something quickly, provoking the blond. 

“Whoa!” Hinata, never one to be quiet, shouts irritatedly in his ear, “That just go _powah_ and _bang_! So cool!” 

It was pretty cool, Kageyama has to admit. 

“That’s Ojiro Aran,” Sugawara explains and adds as he feels the eyes of his teammates, “He was in Volleyball Monthly. They called him one of the best spikers in high schools.” 

“Best spikers in Japan?” Tanaka raises his head, “Like Shiratorizawa’s Ushiwaka?” 

“Oho - ho - ho! Do you need anything from our miracle boy?” 

All of Karasuno's team looks at the red-haired boy in the seat in front of them. He turned his head, smiling and pointing two of his fingers at the boy next to him. Tobio blinks in surprise. This is _Ushijima Wakatoshi_. The ace of Shiratorizawa Academy, the one who Oikawa could never beat.

Hinata tilts his head in confusion.

“Huh? Who?”

Is he kidding? How could he not know? Several voices are raised at once, so Tobio opens his mouth as well.

"You are such an idiot."

“You of all people _don’t know_?!”

"Hey, hey, you are not serious, right?"

Ushijima is not rattled by them in the least, just looking at them calmly. Instead, the ones who seem to be most startled, are his friends.

“Woo - hoo, did I hear it right?" the redhead raises his hands to his face in shock, "Somebody doesn’t know about our volleyball monster?”

“I’m not a monster," Ushijima tilts his head in confusion at his companion, "I'm human."

Whitehead next to them sighs before slapping the redhead at his neck.

“Satori, stop harassing Wakatoshi!”

“I'm not harassing him, SemiSemi. I'm talking with other people, maybe you should try it as well," the redhead shrugs before looking at Hinata, "Wakatoshi - kun is the best spikers in our prefecture, little one! Maybe in the whole of Japan as well, who knows?"

"I'm not the best," comes Ushijima's answer, "Kiyoomi is as good as me."

"So serious, Wakatoshi - kun!"

Hinata's eyes started sparkling when the word _best_ was spoken. He stands up, trying to look closer at the boy in the row before them as if he was evaluating if he stood a chance against Ushijima. Tobio fights back the irritated groan. There is no way he can compare to Shiratorizawa's ace. 

“Hey! Be silent! The serve is about to start!” Sawamura scolds all of them as tugs Hinata back. He quickly nods and apologizes to Ushijima, and his two companions, “I’m sorry about that.”

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the person Oikawa wanted to surpass, raises his hand in acknowledgment before returning to watching the game before them. Tobio fights off the daze and shifts his eyes to Inarizaki's chosen server as well. The blond, of course. He should have expected him. Tobio frowns as he sends a cocky smile straight to him.

He _serves_. 

It's as good, just as perfect as the one Tobio saw him perform at Karasuno. There is no surprise when he earns No Touch - Ace against Seijoh. Tobio swears the whole gym _explodes_ in excitement.

“Atsumu - senpai!” 

“That’s Miya twins for ya!” 

“Go, go, go, Atsumu! Give us another!” 

“Get better, scrub!” 

“Stop showing off, you idiot!” 

Tobio blinks. Somebody was heckling? Oh. Those two voices. One of them belonged to Date, who was now sitting on the bench next to a white-haired boy and clapping with the biggest smile. The second one was the blond’s twin.

“Shut up, Samu!” the server answers as the ball is passed back to him, “You’re just jealous!” 

The twin doesn’t answer at all, ignoring the remark. The ball is tossed into the air again - 

* * *

There is something strange about the game.

Tobio can’t help but frowns as the game continues. 23 - 17 for Inarizaki. Kindaichi and Kunimi look exhausted, their eyes flashing wildly. Oikawa seems to be infatuated, shaking with fury, while Iwaizumi has a deadly glint in his eyes. Even if he hardly knows the rest of Aoba Johsai’s team, he can tell that they are a little off their game as well. 

The true mystery is Inarizaki.

They don’t look nearly as exhausted as their opponents, their movements are slow, more sluggish, and clumsier. There is something odd in that, something cold and calculated. Sometimes they stop just short of brilliant moves, letting Aoba Johsai earn a point even if they could stop it. 

He winces, remembering his grandpa’s words. 

“They look like they are holding back,” he realizes to the shocked gasps of his teammates.

“Wait, what do you mean, Kageyama?” Hinata bounces on his seat, “They don’t look that way to me at all!” 

“They are a little bit off, I guess, but holding back? Why?” Sawamura frowns his brows in wonder.

“Oh, you can see it?” the redhead next to Ushijima hums, turning to them with a wicked grin, “That’s cuz they are!” Tobio and his teammates look at him instantly, and the red-haired boy in total glee points up to the spiker sitting beside him, “Their ten was able to stop our miracle boy,” he hums, “There’s no way he wouldn’t be able to block so many blocks! My destined enemy ~ Oh, I want to crush him.”

“I remember him,” Ushijima nods, “He was annoying.” 

“Wakatoshi - kun?! You, finding somebody irritating?” 

“Satori, stop being such a nuisance to Wakatoshi,” the whitehead sighs, “I’m just surprised he doesn’t find _you_ annoying.” 

“I’m so hurt, Eita - kun!” the red hair exclaims, “How cruel of you to say so!” 

The whitehead doesn’t answer, narrowing his gaze and looking straight at Date. Huh? Kageyama blinks at this, disliking the intensity of his gaze.

“Huh, she looks familiar,” he says, disregarding the redhead’s words, “Where did I see her before?” 

“What?! SemiSemi, are you,” red hair stops dramatically, “In love?!” 

“Don’t call me that! And no!” 

“I saw her earlier with Oikawa.”

Just like that, the whole Karasuno team stops pretending they were not listening in to the conversation. Nishinoya instantly leans forward, not even a little bit ashamed, as Tanaka flares up. 

“The setter?!”

“Him again?!” 

“The Grand King?!”

“What? What? What? Does the little princess know our pretty setter?” the redhead exclaims, ignoring the chaos around, “Don’t be jealous, SemiSemi, you’re way prettier than him!” 

“Shut up, I’m not jealous!” 

“He was doing that thing from the shoujo manga you showed me,” Ushijima says without a moment of hesitation, “Kabedon it was called, I believe.” 

Huh? What’s that? Tobio looks in confusion to Sugawara, who shrugs in the answer, smiling awkwardly. 

“You remember it? I’m so proud!” redhead jumps on his seat, “So, so, so, how did she react? Did she swoon in his arms and professed undying love? Did she faint? Did, did, did Princess of Inarizaki reject him?!”

“She threatened to kill him,” Ushijima answers simply, before questioning, “Princess of Inarizaki?” 

Kageyama blinks. It’s not really what he expected of Date. She seemed. Hm, not exactly nice. No. Date [Name] is a strange person. She cursed a lot, but she didn’t seem so bad as to threaten somebody with death. She accepted Tobio’s apology well enough, even though she refused to call him by his name. 

He can’t help when his ears redden as he remembers her calling him _Blueberry Cupcake_. It was, really, really embarrassing and Tobio is glad that Tsukishima didn’t hear it. But, it also felt - felt - that also felt a little bit strange, nearly making him think of that giddy, tingly feeling was as pleasant and exhilarating as the one he felt after a particularly good toss. There was - is - something about Date that makes him pause for a bit. He is not sure what it is.

Shaking his head, Kageyama returns to the subject at hand. He knows that Oikawa has a really awful personality. It is very possible he just annoyed her so much she snapped. Tobio scoffs, feeling pity for her already. Dealing with Oikawa is never easy.

“This is what they call her! I heard it from one of those silly Committee’s members,” redhead hums, “Date [Name], Inarizaki’s manager, Vixen - Princess!” 

_Princess?_

He wonders if she knows. There is a bitter taste on his tongue as memories of his last year at middle school return. The King of the Court, they called him in Kitagawa Daiichi. The awful name that made Tobio frustrated, angry, and ashamed. He wonders why people call her that. He can’t help but pity her, the lonely Princess that can’t play with her friends. 

For a moment he looks at her and sees himself where she sits.

He feels the gaze of the setter yet again, who smiles at him in the middle of the game, challenging. Tobio turns his gaze, not really wanting to engage with him right now. The guilt in his chest doesn't let him, not when he is the one who caused Date's injuries.

“What?” the white-haired one beside Ushijima turns to the spiker, ignoring the red-haired boy, “Are you sure about that, Wakatoshi?” 

“She told him that she will gouge his eyes out - “ 

“What? What? What? That's super, super scary!” redhead instantly screams in fear before changing his expression into a grin, “I want to meet her now.” 

“Why would you like to meet somebody who threatens to gouge your eyes out?” 

At the same time as white hair sweatdrops, the ball comes in contact with the floor. The first set has ended. The score? 25 - 21 for Inarizaki. 

“The Grand King really lost to the Emperor,” Hinata whispers to him, “He is really better than him and you, Kageyama - kun.” 

“He is better for _now_ ,” Tobio shakes his head, “We will win when he plays with us anyway." 

Hinata smiles at him in the answer.

“Of course we will!” 

There is determination between the two of them, a shared bond born out of the need to win, to compete, to never lose. He may be irritating, but he is - maybe, just maybe, Tobio’s comrade, and both of them are going to make it to the nationals, play with Inarizaki and _win_. Just after they will defeat Oikawa. 

He shakes his head, returning his gaze to the court. Huh. Something strange is going on. The white-haired boy from Inarizaki, the one from before, stands up, Date's smile following him. He opens his mouth.

The world breaks as the words echo through the room. 

“How about you stop playing around and take this seriously?”

The gym instantly grows quiet, as all of the stares focus at the white-haired boy from Inarizaki. Kita, they call him. The captain of the team, the person who didn't play in the first set. He's an intimidating person, his glare dead cold and untainted with any emotion. He evaluates all of his teammates critically, his lips formed into a thin line.

The first person to stop the silence is the greyhead, who pointily yawns. 

“Really, we can? Finally,” he says nonchalantly, placing hands on the back of his neck, “I was getting so bored anyway.” 

"You saw it, huh? It was Atsumu's idea," Ojiro looks really tired, "We just decided to go along. You know how he is, Shinsuke."

“I don’t know what you are talking about, captain, Aram, Osamu,” the middle blocker sighs, ignoring the mocking gazes of his teammates, “I was doing my best out here.” 

“Stop lazing about, Rintarou," commands the captain, "And you, Atsumu, stop being a kid. It's a match, not the playground."

“Drag him, Your Majesty," Date covers her mouth with her hand. Tobio can't help but think she looks especially good like that, reminding him somehow of the sweetness of strawberry milk from the vending machine at his school.

The middle blocker sweatdrops, avoiding the gaze of the captain and Date, who starts giggling ever louder. The blond only shakes his head in disappointment.

“Playing with scrubs is just not fun," he sighs as he places his hands on his waist. His facial expression changes, darkening as he looks at Oikawa, "Let's crush them."

Tobio looks back to Aoba Johsai and frowns at the face Oikawa makes. He wouldn’t think he could get so frustrated, not a childish and vindictive person he knows. Iwaizumi pats him on the back, whispering something Tobio cannot hear. They had to notice it too, of course, they did. It would be hard not to when you stand on the court.

"So lame, Tsumu."

"Yup, yup, win first, Tsu - chan!"

"Stop bullying me!"

The game must continue. 

He watches as teams change sides of the court, as they start to leave their seats. He sees how the captain high fives Date before going to the place that was earlier taken by another player, the one with number 5. 

Tobio grips the corner of his jacket in anticipation. He shares a look with Hinata, as both of them lean forward, watching every move of the player going to the end line. The first server of the second set is the blond, Miya Atsumu, as screams nearby inform him. He doesn’t seem to care about anything, as he lazily sends a kiss in Date’s direction. Tobio grimaces as the girl fake swoons as she pretends to catch it. 

Atsumu Miya, satisfied with her answer, tosses the ball and jumps. His palm touches it, but it doesn’t move with the force they all saw before. It’s different. Fast. Precise. That is not a spike jump serve, that is - 

“Jump floater?!” Tobio proclaims surprised, “He knows this one as well?!” 

“W - what sort of serve is it?” Hinata cries next to him, “It’s so crazy!”

“That’s impressive,” Ushijima’s cold voice cuts across the crowd's excitement, causing Hinata and Kageyama to instantly look at him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” nods red hair, “How come he didn’t play in the last year? That's a really scary power he has there," he laughs a little, before leaning to Ushijima, "But you know, Wakatoshi - kun, for somebody impressed you look rather angry." 

Ushijima doesn't respond, so Tobio shifts his attention, not understanding what could make the ace angry.

“It’s really accurate,” Tobio tells his teammates, not even looking at Shiratorizawa’s students, “He placed it perfectly at the end line.” 

“Is there something this guy can’t do?” Tanaka screams in frustration, “That’s so unfair!” 

“I don’t like floaters,” Nishinoya, Karasuno’s libero, admits to Kageyama’s confusion, “My overhand receives are not so good. _Bastard_.” 

Atsumu Miya smiles as the gym explodes in excitement. As Seijoh looks shocked at the ball. _No Touch Ace_ , yet again. And then he does it again, and again, and again - 

It’s 7 - 0 when he finally makes a mistake when the ball leaps out of bounds. Seven successful service aces. Tobio can't help it - Atsumu Miya is so out of reach, so out of everything he has seen before. He admires him. He respects him. He envies him. He wants to play against him. He grips his knuckles.

It is easy to see what the captain’s team meant by saying to _stop playing around_. Now that he is on the court, Inarizaki changes into a lethal machine. It starts innocently enough: with libero trying to copy the jump over the line while setting a ball, a move performed earlier by Seijoh. 

Their spiker, Ojiro Aran, doesn't seem too surprised at that, and performs a wonderful spike, landing his team another point. Seijoh can't react, only watch it flabbergasted.

“It was a little low, sorry, Aran!” he hears libero's voice after the play, “Nothing compared to Atsumu and Osamu!”

“Don’t mind, don’t mind!” 

“That was pretty cool, Michinari - kun!”

“Huh, all those chokes from Gintama finally make sense.” 

“My name is not Gintama!” 

Next is the block. Tobio was never close to Matsukawa, one of his upperclassmen at Kitagawa Daiichi, but even he can see the shock on his face as Inarizaki’s blockers use the block he himself executed before against him. And it doesn’t stop here. Inarizaki, as if playing around still, starts copying the play style of Seijoh, while still maintaining a lead against the opponent. Seijoh scores mostly of Inarizaki’s failures, their inability to correctly copy the techniques, serves landing out of the boundary. 

They can't counter this strategy, no matter how much they try to. His seniors, people he respects and fears, are nearly helpless against the foxes. 

“That's an awful style to play,” Sawamura says, his face full of sadness, “Using techniques of the enemy to intimidate them, to put pressure on them. Playing against Inarizaki must be hectic.” 

Tobio looks at him but doesn’t see defeat on his captain’s face. There is only determination there. Tobio feels a grin forming on his face.

 _I want to play,_ he thinks. All of his teammates do.

 _I want to win._

Inarizaki, the Ultimate Challengers. 

Miya Atsumu, the server, the setter, and his brother, Miya Osamu, the wing spiker who can toss. Ojiro Aran, one of the best spikers in Japan. Suna Rintarou, the middle blocker who seemed to score more points than anybody else. Kita Shinsuke, the captain who is not a regular, but who plays splendidly nonetheless.

And Date [Name], their manager, Princess of Inarizaki, clapping and laughing gleefully, not seeing the slaughter the match is.

* * *

Me: I will not be able to write more romance options.

Also me: plans to add more romance options

I just love all of those disaster boys QwQ 

So, our first chapter from a different POV! I’m insecure about it, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Did you like it? Was the match okay? Did you enjoy Tobio being dumbass? He is so stupid, I can’t. I feel like he was at the same time crushing at Oikawa, Atsu, and MC. Somebody save my oblivious blueberry.

Also, more canon divergences! Noya returns when he sees how powerful Atsu’s serve is, and he and Suga kidnap Asahi. Also, our boys Waka, Semi, and Tendou are here. And poor, dumb Hinata doesn’t know he just met _the ace_. 

Of course, more Committee shenanigans. They are here to stay, lmao.

Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, stay safe, and have a wonderful day!


	19. In which you finally meet your equal (the world quivers in your wake).

The ball falls to the ground with a soft noise. 

The referee whistles. 

Does it mean you won? You blink, peering intently at the score, and sure enough, it changes to your favor. 25 to 13 for Inarizaki High. There is pregnant silence before the gym erupts in deafening cheers. 

Your team is still quiet, as they stand against the net, the applause riveting around them. They just look at Ao - Aoba - at Shittykawa’s team, without any emotion left in their stone-like faces. You swing your legs as you awkwardly gaze at them, not knowing what to do. 

“Didn’t know Atsu can do something like that,” you whisper more to yourself than to people sitting beside you, still a little bewildered how fast it happened.

The last point was not scored by arms - breaking spikes of Aran or, to your utter surprise, because who could think that the laziest person on this planet hit so hard?, sharp strikes of Suna. Rather, it was a soft feint made by none other than your childhood friend.

They hear you nonetheless.

“That’s a _setter dump_ ,” Gintama, sitting beside you, explains, “He played it risky, that bastard,” he sighs with frustration, “But what else should we expect from the demon twin?”

You can’t help the proud grin that appears on your face. What else, indeed. 

Can you even enter the court to hug them and say how cool they were? You wish you knew, because you really, really want to. They won their honor back and showed the Plankton how much they were worth. Now, he will never call them weak. And your money is _safe_! No charges, probably. 

Yeah, may perhaps. You don’t know. You shift your gaze to him, and - well, you don’t feel the satisfaction you thought you would. That’s a little annoying, but you can’t help it. Shittykawa looks so defeated, so lost and so, so pathetic, you can’t help it. You pity him. 

Even if he deserved it. 

His expression changes suddenly as you see Atsumu approaching him from the other side of the net. Your childhood smiles at him in that cocky way that infuriates, well, it infuriates everybody. Something in Amoeba’s eyes changes and for the second, you are afraid that he will try to hit Atsu. Before you can react, stand up, scream, or anything - it disappears and the grin lands on his face. 

Okay, okay, okay, maybe you don’t pity him. 

Ugh, you don’t know anymore. Why are emotions so complicated? You stand up, a little bit unsure, crossing your hands on your chest. You look back to your friends and decide to ignore Atsumu for now, skittering on the balls of your feet in the direction of the younger twin. 

“Osa - chan!” you bump into his arm, hastily embracing it upon impact (and ignoring the pain you feel at it), “Congratulations. You were super cool, you know.” 

He smiles at you fondly.

“Cooler than Tsumu?”

“Always.” 

He snickers, the evil gremlin that he is, before looking at his twin. You two share a gaze, sharing a telepathic link, before deciding to help the idiot before he ends up in the prison or something. The two setters - you think Shittykawa is a setter, but you wouldn’t bet at this, because you don’t want to lose any money to that protozoan - glare at each other, looking to be so close to throwing hands at each other. 

“Atsu - chan, whatcha doin’ over here?” 

Your voice seems to actually wake them from the strange battle of wills they had going on. You sure hope your intermission didn’t cost Atsumu a loss - you would hate for him to lose anything to Amoeba. 

Yeah, the same Amoeba who is first to recover upon your interruption. Damn.

“Hello, [Name] - chan!” he calls to you, waving friendly, ignoring your friends, “You look as cute as ever.” 

“You saw her only today,” SamSam points up, his voice mocking and derisive. He is not taking any of his bullshit, just like he should, “How can you know how she normally looks?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, twin number two,” he dismisses the greyhead’s words, “I just know [Name] - chan always looks cute.” 

He called you [Name]. [N A M E]. A literal stranger, calling you by your name. Right officer, this man over here. Please, take him away before you start having a panic attack. Oh, wait. It’s too late. You are already panicking. 

“How the fuck you know my name?!” you nearly shrieks, as you move by sheer instinct alone behind Osamu, still clutching his arm as your lifeline, “Fuck off, you tax fraud, go away, what the fuck, fuck, fuck -"

You can’t believe you felt sorry for him. Never again, you stupid softie. Emotions are for losers anyway. From today onwards you are going to be a cold, confident, stuck-up bitch. 

You are so adorable when you are shy!” he smiles and all of your resolutions crumble as you cry in fear, “We will catch up later, okay? I have some things to do!” 

You just want to say it now, so your poor descendants know: you are not shy. You are scared and angry, and can’t read that person at all. What is he after? What does he want from you? Seriously, does he think you will not go with your threat? You are in Miyagi for the next few days - you could stalk him out. Figure where he lives, find a nice opportunity, stuff like that. 

You know you shouldn’t. You told him you will kill him. The cops will find you fast enough, if he dies now, so you have to wait a few years before you move. But you can be patient, that’s fine. Oikawa Tooru, you commit his name to your memory. You narrow your eyes and more with instinct than anything else, you put your middle finger up. He seems undeterred as he only waves once again and turns around, finally leaving. You will remember him, oh he can be sure of it, the bastard.

“ _Rule the court_ ,” Osamu speaks loudly, his honey-colored eyes shining dangerously, making sure the brown-haired boy can still hear him, “How lame.” 

You shift your gaze to Atsumu, who lazily raises his hand to his cheek. What they are talking about? Seeing your bewildered gaze, he points to the banner of the Aoba - Aoba Something’s team. Just as he said, it proclaims _Rule the Court_. And yeah, it probably is supposed to be nobly and kingly, but you can’t help but grimace. It just comes over like overconfidence. Huh, it fits their personalities at least. 

_We don’t need memories_ sounds a little bit better, you guess. 

“Yeah, they can’t even rule the changing room,” the oldest, the most childish of the twins derides them. His provocation is promptly ignored. The only answer he gets is the scorning gazes of the losers. Literally losers. Heh. 

“Creepy motherfucker,” Osa whispers, glaring at the retracting figure, before he shifts his gaze to you. There is a worry in his eyes and concern in his tone, as he leans forward, resting his forehead at yours for the second, “Are you okay, dear?”

“I - I don’t want to see him ever again,” you mutter truthfully, “Not until I’m ready to kill him, that’s it,” you pop your lips as Atsumu chuckle, “Shittykawa. Amoeba. Puffy.” 

“Puffy?” they question you at the same time. You nod furiously - and oww, what the hell is wrong with your body? Bad, bad head! Or the neck? Ugh. No matter. It just _hurts_. 

“Didn’t he have like, really, really puffy cheeks when he served?” you say anyway, trying to play it as nothing happened, “He looked like a pufferfish.” 

They both are quiet for the second, taken aback. 

“He did something like that,” Atsumu finally agrees with you, “And aren’t pufferfishes venomous? Just like our Mr. Loser over here.” 

“Atsumu, Osamu, it’s time to line up,” Kita’s voice reaches you before any of you can answer. 

The three of you turn around to look at him. And there is Shinsuke, looking no worse for wear than before the match. Both twins exhale deeply. Osamu frees his arm of your hold and gives it a comforting poke, as Atsumu pushes your arm playfully. Then, they move forward. 

It's a little lonely to watch them go. You’re proud of them, of course, you are, but you want to talk with them, to finally congratulate Atsumu, to trash talk Shittykawa, to spend time with them. You can’t. You are so selfish, aren’t you? 

Yet again, you want to hold them back. They are amazing out here, on the court, away from you, free and unchained from the responsibility of looking after you. With the guilt. They go forward, not even looking back. They should, they really should, but - 

You grimace, not sure what to do. God, you feel so clingy, so stupid, so - Argh. Emotions. Once again, they _suck_. You stomp around, frustrated. This day is just the fucking worst. You are pretty sure it couldn’t get worse even if somebody found and destroyed your secret _Naruto_ stash in your luggage. 

You just jinxed yourself. Great.

“We'll be back in the minute, [Name],” Shinsuke, as if he was sensing your concern, smiles at you, “Just wait for us a little longer.” 

You nearly jump in shock as his hand softly pats your hair. That - that - that’s illegal, dear sir! You are going to get a heart attack, what the fuck?! You feel the temperature of your face rise drastically as your cheeks blush in furious red color. You - you - you are not - not ready! Like, you bumped his shoulder once, high fived and now - now he pets you? That’s like level fifty of friendship!

“Aya - aya - aya - ya,” you mumble in the answer, and when he looks at you with surprise, you hastily add, “Y - yes, sir, sir! I will be waiting, yes!” 

You run as your life depends on it because it does. You move straight to your private bench. Kita Shinsuke is a very, very dangerous man. You sneak a gaze back at him. He is now being dragged from the spot he was just when talking to you just a moment ago. He looks rooted.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. He hates you now?! You destroyed everything! Ugh. You sit down and cover your face. Now you have done fucked it up. 

Your mood is ignored, thank god, as the audience starts the overwhelming applause. There are shouts and cries, and you are pretty sure somebody just declared their love, and oh, is it a marriage proposal to Suna? They are so popular. 

Even the twins.

The twins! 

That’s something you can never be able to truly comprehend.

You move your fingers aside, just a little bit to see how they bow at their opponents, after which they are going for handshakes. It’s strange to see them do this - you are pretty sure more than half of Seijoh’s team wants to break your friends' faces. They don’t go for it, but you look for any hostility sign like an eagle, ready to intercept and react. You don't find anyone who tries to attack, though. Then, the teams break off and Inarizaki moves to bow once again - this time to the audience to thank it for the support. So, you take a small breath, before you see twins going in your direction instead. They both wear identical mischievous smiles. 

You should run. 

Forgetting your former embarrassment, you stand up, about to run. But yeah, they are athletes. They are faster, stronger, better, whatever. And this is how you find yourself being picked up and placed on twins’ shoulders. Yeah, twins. Each of the menaces holds your leg in this awkward pose. You cry out as they do it, maniacally holding onto their uniforms. 

“If I fucking fall, I swear, I will kill you both!” you threaten as they start to move with you, “I hate you both, I hate you both so much!” 

“You are always speaking so sweetly to us, sunshine,” Atsumu laughs at your misery, “Just enjoy being tall for the first time in your life!” 

You decide that falling is not as bad as not slamming your palm on Atsu’s head. That doesn’t cause them to stop, of course, but it’s satisfying nonetheless. 

“Deserved,” Osamu yawns, most likely tired of his brother’s shit, “I will not drop you, but I would not count on Tsumu.” 

“Who will drop who?” his twin mocks, gently slapping your tight. You grimace at him, but he doesn’t care, as he continues, “Not me. You’re the one who will do it first!” 

“Oh you idiots!” you growl, “If either of you drops I’m going to post your childhood photos on the internet. See how fans will like _that_.” 

“I would love that, Princess!” 

W - wait, what? You raise your head and pale before the absolute flood of people that rises ahead of you. Oh, biscuits. You are not ready for that. 

They are all looking at you, all judging, all watching, watching, watching -

You take a deep breath.

It is scary. It is, but - but you are not alone, no matter how much you hate to rely on the twins, they are here with you and they will not let hurt you. 

“Yes, please, post them!” 

“I would appreciate it very much!”

“Hey, Miya twins! Nice game!” 

“What with that last play, Atsumu? Dump? At this moment?!” 

“Inarizaki’s Princess is just as pretty as they said!” 

“I want to die,” you mumble, wishing you could just become one with the earth, “That shit is so, so, so wrong.” 

“Same,” comes Suna’s voice from, wow, actually from below. He has to look up to you, “When can we commit group suici - “ 

“Rintarou, no!” Aran scolds him before he can end the sentence, his arm still around turned - into - stone Shinsuke, god, you truly have broken him, “You can’t talk about it aloud!” 

“Wait, does it mean I can talk about it in private?” Suna narrows his eyebrows, “Hey, [Name], how about that - “ 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Atsumu interrupts him, “I heard it before, but - Why are you calling her by her name?! Who let you?! Call her Date! Date - san! No, call her _Date - sama_!” 

“I don’t mind,” you reply, “We are friends now. He can call me [Name][Name] if he wants to.” 

“No, that’s gross,” Suna shrugs, “She was one to decide to call me RinRin. I still don’t know how to unfriend somebody without murder, so I’m going along with this for now.” 

You can’t help as you beam at him. Look at you. It's the third week of school and you have at least three friends - Sara, Rin, and Shinsuke. You mean, that’s only if Shinsuke still likes you after you fucking booked it like a coward. Gee, you’re so, so embarrassing. You should just stay in your room, never going out. 

“Rintarou!” Momjiro cries with an exhausting edge to his tone, wow, poor Ina - Mama. He turns to his friend in desperation, “Shinsuke, wake up, we need you!” 

The only answers he gets are loud, booming laughs from the audience. 

“Don’t worry, Aran!” comes the shout, “We know about Rintarou’s personality already!”

“And you decided not to run?” RinRin blinks in surprise, “That’s a strange life choice.” 

“We love you, you edgelord!” 

“I believe it’s not edginess, but depression, but whatever,” he stretches his arms, “They don’t pay me enough to care.” 

“They don’t pay you at all,” you point up.

“Don’t remind me.” 

You smile at that, momentarily taken by their kindness, as more shouts resound around. 

“Kita - senpai, it was so cool to see you play!” 

“Those spikes were rad, Aran!” 

“Hey, Ren, nice blocks!”

“Nice murders, Hitoshi!” 

“They are called murders, not kills now,” Gintama shakes his head, “Can’t believe your stupidity is so contagious.” 

Your evil laugh is probably heard in the abyss of this world. Today Japan, tomorrow Asia, and the day after that, Europe! Then you will start to think about America and Africa. One step after another. You will move slowly, on your tip-toes. 

“I’m going to conquer the world,” you claim without any shame whatsoever, “Watch me growing into the Evil Overlord.” 

“That’s the Vixen!”

You blush, remembering the others hear you as well. And that they are all straight-up insane and love all the stupid blunder that comes from your mouth. You don’t know what is more embarrassing - your words or them. Probably them. Yeah, them definitely. You groan and shake your head (oww, you have to stop doing this). 

As you thought, your eyes catch something bright in the crowd. _Nishinoya_. Just beside him are standing Carrot Cake and Blueberry Cupcake! Oh, that’s Tanaka and - and - and that dad person! It seems their whole team is here, watching all of you. That's a little awkward, you guess, but that thought disappears quickly as Nishinoya notices your gaze. 

He instantly brightens with a grin so big you are left in wonder that it didn’t fucking break his whole face. He raises both of his hands and waves at you with such enthusiasm he hits a nearby standing bearded man. You snicker as you resolve to trust twins and let go of the material of their shirts. You raise your hand and wave back, using your second hand to cover your mouth. 

You don’t know if it should be possible, but Nishinoya beams even more at you nonetheless. You also shift your gaze to Blueberry Cupcake and he returns your gesture shyly, only raising his hand hesitantly. You titter, lowering your eyes to the twins. Atsumu glares daggers into Blueberry, while Osamu nonchalantly pretends to not notice them. 

“They are not worth your attention, Tsumu,” he says, “Yours too, [Name].” 

“They were nice, you know,” you sigh, “Like, seriously, what is your problem with them?” 

“They were so nice that you fucking frown every time you move your head,” he snaps back sharply, “I would prefer to never see them again, fuckers.” 

Wait, wait, wait, abolish the mission. Did he saw it? Fuck. They are not going to let it go. You would look at Osamu’s face to try, you know, understand what he feels, but - well, it would hurt a little to move your neck like that. So, for now, you are going to ignore the remark. Maybe they will forget. 

“Can’t agree with you, Samu,” Atsu hums, “I want to crush them. Annihilate them so much they will never look at volleyball again.” 

“That sounds extreme,” you feel your sweat dripping from your forehead, “Now, set me on the ground. That’s embarrassing,” you roll your eyes when they don’t move, “Really, I will throw up at you if you don't.” 

“Aim at Tsumu.” 

“Wait? No, aim at Samu, that little traitor!” 

You don’t throw up at them, no matter how much you want to. You are not so evil. 

They let you go slowly. Ah, floor, so lovely to meet you again. You take a step back as they bow to the crowd and thank them for support. You join them this time, ignoring your boo-boos, truly thankfully so many people from different places seem to root for your friends.

You stand up, the crowd cheering once again, before they slowly disappear, one person after another. You are not able to see Nishinoya or the cupcake anymore, but that’s life is what you guess. Luckily, you met them again before driving out of Miyagi. Huh, when you think about it, didn’t Atsu tell them to see their match? Was it their reason? 

If so, you have to admire their determination? pettiness? saltiness? Their _something_ , that something that made them come here, you guess. You would be way too lazy to go watch a match because some jackass told you to. Yeah, you would most likely end up not going at all since you were ordered to do so. Huh, strange people, you guess as you shoot them last, evaluating gaze. That’s cool of them, a little bit. That they didn’t surrender. You totally would. 

All of the team - Shinsuke now alive, yay - goes back to the benches, where both of the coaches observe the team coldly. All of Aoba Something, and their awful, awful setter, is now gone, thank goodness, leaving the gym only with you, and, well, scooting audience. 

“Who would have thought that people would cheer for you,” you whisper fondly, as you go, “I nearly feel a tear dropping from my eye.” 

“Yeah, Tsumu was so fucking hated,” Osa nods, agreeing easily enough as if he was not hated as well. You roll your eyes, “He is still hated but in a different manner.” 

“Wow, you praise me so much, little brother.”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t, trash - person,” Rintarou cuts in, “Trash.” 

“Hey there, RinRin, are you sure you should be one to talk?” Atsumu’s smile becomes a little bit faker, “If I remember correctly, we are friends, right?” 

“Ugh, google, how do I unfollow somebody in real life?” 

“Even if you unfollow him, he will follow you, Suna,” says Gintama, “He is worse than the parasite. Definitely harder to get rid of.” 

“Tell me that,” Osamu nods sagely, “I have tried to do that for over sixteen years. Not successful even once.”

“What is that? Anti - Atsumu Coalition?” Atsu snorts in answer, before raising his head in a cocky manner, "You know who got seven consecutively server aces? You know who? Huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh fondly, motioning to him with your hand, “Come down here, you giant baby.” 

He stops for the moment, before tilting his head at you. 

“Are you going to hit me?” 

“Where would the fun be if I told you?” you tease, grinning the whole time, “Oh, come on, you coward. What can this little girl do to you?”

“Probably kill you brutally,” your silver-head friend supplies, being the good twin, the best twin, and your best friend. 

“I would say I will attend your funeral, but we both know I’m too lazy,” Rin comments idly, “So, RIP I guess?” 

“Not even F for him?” Gintama questions. 

“I would rather not pay respects to this human garbage.” 

“Rude!”

With that last reply, he looks around hesitantly and seeing your determined gaze, sighs, finally deciding to lower himself. You smile, amusement plain to see on your face. 

“Wonderful job, AtsuAtsu,” you reach to his head, “Good boy! Thank you for destroying them. You were amazing.” 

You start to ruffle his hair as he stands in front of you flabbergasted. What, did he seriously think you would hit him? Loser. His face becomes so red you have a hard time not thinking about him as a tomato. Atsumu Tomato Miya. That fits. 

“Be honest, he was lame,” Osamu interrupts him, by shoving his own hands into his twins' head, “What was that serve, huh? Out of bounds? Is your training lacking?” 

“Hey! What do you think you doin’?!

Are we bullying Atsumu? Sign me the hell up,” comes the dead tone of Suna, before he places his hand on the back of his head and starts patting it.

This is where the blond twin hits his limit, evading all of you by stepping back and turning his dramatically. 

“Jerks, all of you,” he swiftly proclaims, though his voice wavers a bit from embarrassment. 

“Are you ashamed of our love, older brother?” Osa mocks him, smirking dangerously. You nod, ignoring the pain to make fun of your blond friend. 

“Yeah, older brother, we love you so much!” you join in, grinning from one ear to the other.

The last blow comes from Rin, who in his monotonous voice says only two, deadly words: 

“Older brother.” 

Atsu falls to the floor, his fist slamming it furiously, completely defeated. The three of you snicker, and some of your teammates do so as well - Gintama, Kosaku, and three others you don’t even care to remember. Shinsuke watches passively while Ojiro seems to facepalming, just like coach Kurosu. Omimimimimimi doesn’t react at all, while coach Oomi just continues to smile without any emotion (he is so creepy sometimes). 

“Why - why are all of you so embarrassing?” 

“You mean adorable,” Osamu flashes a peace sign as he sticks his tongue out, “We’re so fucking cute and you love us, admit it.” 

“N - never.” 

Coach Kurosu shakes his head at your antics. 

“Hey, demons!” he shouts, “Hurry up, I want to go and look at my dog - I mean go eat. Yeah.” 

You nearly feel the weariness of the team in the air, but the three of you - okay, fine, four, you would not leave flustered Atsumu on the floor, so both you and SamSam help him up, as he tries to cover his red face. So adorable. You fight back another snicker. 

“So,” Kurosu starts dramatically as you join the rest of them in a nice circle, “I will not even comment on what you did today.” 

Huh? What is he talking about? You, no. They won. They are supposed to win. What is he talking about? 

You don’t tilt your head, you know better than to do that. Instead, you choose to poke lightly Osa’s hand in the silent question. He only shakes his head. Not important then. 

“That’s the reason nobody wants to play with,” coach Oomi supplies not - so - helpfully, “You could pretend to be decent human beings for once, you know.” 

“Nope.”

“I’m gonna pass.” 

“That way is funnier.” 

They behaved unacceptably before the match has begun,” Shinsuke explains in that freezing tone of his, “They harassed our teammate and got what they deserve.” 

Ojiro sweatdrops and you clap excitedly with your hands. You don’t know what they did, but it doesn’t matter. You are teammates! He is talking about you! He still likes you! He was angry _with_ you. That’s so, so sweet. It makes you unreasonably happy to be cared for. 

Because, really, you should tell them that you can take care of yourself because you can. You should tell them you are capable of destroying people on your own.

You don’t, not this time, happy about being included. 

Shinsuke may sound cold, but he is so, so warm. 

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” you tell him and all of him, your words fast, but sincerely as you clasp your hands next to your heart, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall from sheer happiness, “I didn’t like Puffy.” 

“Shittykawa,” Sam agrees, as he takes your hand gently into his, “Asshole.” 

“Loserkawa,” the blond twin throws his arm around your waist, "Amoeba."

“They deserved what they got,” Shinsuke replies in a matter of the fact manner. The three of you beam at him, very, very pleased, like a bunch of evil foxes, “That’s it, Kurosu - sensei.” 

Your coach can only sigh, not being able to fight with him. Nobody can fight with your captain, after all. You giggle.

“Just don’t do habit out of this, demons,” he warns, ignoring your sudden joy, “It’s one thing to play with somebody, it’s another to humiliate them. You may be an enemy of the Seijoh.” 

“Rather they made enemies of us,” Rin deadpans, “If they know what is good for them, they will stay away.” 

“Still can’t believe how much you were into that match, Suna,” Gintama sighs like a jerk he is, “You nearly made that shallot - head cry.” 

Was he? He looked bored for you, which made you sad. Like, okay, you guess his eyes were a little bit sharper, but you would call him serious. RinRin doesn’t care about your opinion, though, as he narrows his eyes and answers easily. 

“I only regret he didn’t.” 

Evil chuckles ensue. 

“I will not be able to change your mind, won’t I?” coach facepalms, “Ah, I have enough of all of you. Do what you want. The gym is open for us until eight p.m. You have dinner at the hotel. Leave me alone for now. Tarou, are you joining me? I need a drink.”

“Definitely, Norimune - san.” 

Oomi smiles as he hastily, far faster than coach Kurosu can, decides to going straight to the exit, running away dramatically.

You are left alone, as people leave premises. Kita takes the reins hastily, making the first years starting to clean as the rest of you sit and just watch. Okay, not all of you - Shinsuke, Ojiro, and Omimimi help them, leaving only you and second years doing fuck - all.

Ach, the life of volleyball’s team manager! 

It’s just so - 

“Boring,” you mean, “Let’s do something stupid we will regret five minutes later.” 

“My brain is not working,” Atsumu answers him, “I want to play _more_.” 

“Your brain is never working, Tsumu,” Osamu informs him helpfully. He ignores his brother’s response (Rude, Samu!) as his eyes zero into something, “Did we ever try to climb the net?” 

The net. Huh. You shift your gaze and decide to ever so - slowly come closer to it. You poke it, not sure if it would hold your weight. On the other hand, how cool it would be to see what your friends see when they spike or toss or serve or whatever? 

“I want to try,” you say aloud, “SamSam, AtsuAtsu?” 

The two instantly stand up and dutifully join you, not even trying to refuse. 

“You three are a hazard to society,” Rin comments as he takes his phone out of the bag, “That one goes to our official Twitter.” 

“I’m the one who updates it, though!" you point up, but Rin doesn't care as he shrugs his shoulders.

“I will take that role after you die.”

“Are you going?” Gintama sweatdrops at the three of you.

“She wants to,” Osa tells him, “What are we gonna do, say fucking no?” 

“She decided to drive with us to Sendai because we wanted to have practice matches,” Atsu points up, “So my sunshine gets what she wants.” 

“Simp!” 

You snort at Rin and Osamu picks you up to let you climb the net easier. You grasp the corner of it, before placing your feet in the holes. He slowly takes his hands away, making sure you are not going to just fall over like an idiot. You hold on tight, trying to balance the unsteady wall of foolish decisions. Seeing it, Atsumu joins you, and the net swings wildly for a minute. 

“ _I got a bottle of whatever, but it’s gotten us drunk,”_ you sing as you hold to your dear life, “ _Singing here’s to never growing up_.” 

“You didn’t even offer me a bottle of bleach, you liar.” 

“Shh, RinRin, that’s not the point!” you laugh as you try to crawl up, not successful, “You are destroying the song!” 

The net sways wildly again as Osamu joins you. It was not made to climb, no by three people at least. You ignore it or at least try to. Because. It’s hard to ignore something if it decides to malfunction at you. Well, who would have thought it would be destroyed under your weight? You shriek - more in joy than fear, next to accompanying the wild laughs of the twins - as you fall. 

“Wait, what are you - [Name]?! Atsumu! Osamu!” 

You are so stupid for loving it. Not worrying your friend. You love the feeling of the air as you fall, the exhilaration of climbing the net, of doing whatever stupid thing you do - yeah, worth it every time. 

Shinsuke’s voice comes nearly panicked, though, but it doesn’t help stop those chaotic feelings. It only makes them stronger, so you close your eyes as you can only see the roof, before meeting your doom. The floor again, that’s it, again. 

To your surprise, you don’t feel the harsh surface of the ground. Instead, there are somebody's arms. _Whomst the fuck_? Osamu and Atsumu were falling with you, Shinsuke was too far, so who would? You open your eyes. 

“RinRin?” your voice comes out sounding very meek even to your ears, “You caught me?” 

You can’t help the confusion in your tone. That’s not something you expected of this lazy, lazy person. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he sets you down instantly, avoiding your eyes, “Not dying before me, please.” 

You are in numb surprise, so you nod. It takes you a moment, but something in your mind finally understands. He caught you because _he cared_ enough to don't want to see you hurt. Somehow your forced friendship means something to him. 

You beam at him and he blinks at you in surprise.

“Thank you, Rintarou.” 

_My friend_. You giggle happily, before shifting your gaze to Osamu and Atsumu. Are they even alive? They lay on the floor under a now _broken_ net. Oopsie. 

“Sam - chan, Atsu - chan?” you question aloud, looking at them. 

“Still regretting nothing.” 

“Regretting having Tsumu as a brother.”

“Oh, shut up, jerk.” 

They can still argue, so they are still alive and in one piece. Without thinking much, you move beside them to help them slowly untangle themselves from the net. It takes a minute, but they are both grinning - all of you three are grinning, actually - the whole time, so well. It was worth it, you guess. 

You help them go up, holding their hands the whole time. You pale a little. And then come the consequences of your action, you guess. 

In front of the three of you stand Shinsuke with Ojiro at his left side and Omimimimi at his right, looking more like a ruthless king than the captain of the volleyball team. He looks at the three of you with absolute murder in his eyes, and well, here comes the _scolding_. You frown, knowing this one is going to hurt. 

He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything the silence is broken by an unknown voice. 

“You are looking like you are having fun, foxes!” 

_Saved!_

You fight back sighing loudly out of relief instead of choosing to judge new people that arrived in the gym. Wait. _New people._ You take a step back behind Osamu, essentially hiding from the world at large.

“Maybe?” Atsumu voices your thoughts in a rare display of telepathy, “What are you doing here?” 

“Just looking at our _c - o - m - p - e - t - i - t - i - o - n_. Competition!” 

What? You grasp Osamu’s shirt and lean a bit from behind him. 

When did those people get here? You know one of them. Blond - no, green, no, no, no, his hair is brown? Ugh. You don’t know. It’s Ushiyama nonetheless, made from stern muscles and harshness. Next to him stands a lanky guy with red, gravity-defying hair and - red eyes? How cool! Oh god, that’s so, so super - extra. Red eyes - red eyes - red eyes! Wait, where were you? 

There is that third person. Third guy. He has white hair - and you are not sure if it’s dyed, that’s scary, yo - and a permanent scowl on his face. You know, he would totally look like a stereotypical _bad boy_ was it not for his pretty and delicate face. Not that you will tell him that. He would probably kick you or something. 

Suna groans audibly. 

“What are you doing here, you monster? Escaped from hell to haunt me?” 

“That’s so rude, Rintarou - kun!” the redhead answers him as he points at Ushiyama, “I’m human you know. The only monster out of us is Wakatoshi - kun!” 

“I’m human,” Ushiyama tells him simply in a deep voice that sounds straight like out of ASMR videos, “Kita.” 

“Ushijima,” your captain responds, nodding his head in greeting. The gesture is returned by Ushiyama. 

There is prolonged silence as the two gaze at each other with intensity. It - it’s awkward. Nearly feels as if they were fighting, but they are just standing and glaring at each other. Is he angry because Shinsuke got his name wrong? Maybe. Perhaps. You could help out, but. _New people_. Ugh. 

“What’s wrong?” Shinsuke finally questions, his brows nearly furrowed, “You wouldn’t come here without reason.” 

“You know our Wakatoshi - kun pretty well, don’t you?” redhead teases and you nearly gasp. The audacity! How can he go after Shinsuke like that? Does he have no shame whatsoever?! 

You growl. Quietly. Under your breath. You can take him in the fight if you would have to. If he didn’t see you. Sneaky sneaky! You can do that. Honor and fighting fair is for idiots anyway. 

Ushiyama ignores the redhead’s remark, choosing instead to focus on Shinsuke. You don’t blame him - Kita is gorgeous, and wonderful, and deserves probably better than all of you. 

“The first set,” he finally says, “I hope you don’t think about playing with us as you did against Oikawa.” 

Is he angry your friends defeat his boyfriend? Is that what is that about? How amusing. You smile mischievously, but your joy staggers a bit as you see your teammates’ expressions. They look so _serious_. So tense. Something’s not right. 

You don’t like it. You don’t like it at all. You don’t understand Kita and others’ faces at all, so you look up to Osamu. There is a mask, hiding his emotions carefully, so you shift your attention. Atsumu is smiling, fakely, of course, but. But. But. You see it. There is a little quiver in it.

That’s all you need. 

That’s all you ever needed. 

You stop slouching, straighten your back and step up, before Osamu, before Atsumu, before Shinsuke - to his furrowed brow - straight next to Ushiyama. You take a deep breath and open your mouth. 

“But if they are not supposed to play,” you hiss, meeting him head-on, “How are they going to _play volleyball_? It’s in the name. They can’t.” 

You swear your teammates react in some way, but you don’t know. Your attention is full of Ushiyama and you are ready to smack a bitch if you need to. You smile at him, boldly, glaring into his brown eyes.

That is a silly thought, but they make you think of a teddy bear's fur. Just. So warmly brown. Huh. It's a little strange on somebody like Ushiyama, who is powerful and could probably crush your head with one hand. Well, if you are going down, you are going down screaming and fighting, and protecting your idiots all the way down.

Ushiyama answers your stare with one of his own. To your honest surprise, you don’t feel any hostility coming out of him. 

“I see,” he nods at you simply, “That makes sense. My apologies.” 

Oh, okay. Good. You place your hands on your waist, satisfied with the result of your little squabble. It seems you judged Ushiyama wrong. It seems he is not so bad for somebody that is dating literal amoeba if he can apologize - 

“Wait, just like that?!” 

“Hey, Wakatoshi - kun, you can’t give up like that!” 

“Wait, wait, sunshine, what are you - “ 

You turn your head a little to Atsumu, and then you open your mouth without any thought. 

“I’m your manager, if somebody has a problem with you, they can take it with me," you stunt them into silence. Because yeah. You may not be the best manager ever, but you will certainly fight for them.

“You have guts, Princess!” comes the redhead’s voice, “I think I like you!” 

“Please don’t, you will only become disappointed when you get to know me,” you answer him swiftly, not stuttering, huh. It seems the solution to your problem with communication is aggressively caring about people. 

Before the redhead can answer, you are met again with a teddy bear’s eyes. 

“You are the girl who threatened Oikawa.” 

Puffykwa. You frown. 

He remembers you. Well, you nearly stagger and apologize, but something in his gaze makes you think that’s not the point he wants to carry across. 

He is honestly really easy to understand, which is something new to you. People and emotions are a complicated mess, but Ushiyama is not like other people you met. He seems honest, straight-forward. Something makes you think he is not somebody who lies.

“I’m sorry that you witnessed that, but he deserved it, Ushiyama - san.” 

His brows arch up, but. Huh? How to explain it? You know he doesn’t disagree with you at Puffy deserving your words. You know also he is not angry. So, what's that? You move your head lightly in the right direction, tilting it just a bit, trying to express your confusion.

“It’s Ushijima,” he explains in the tone you can only call kind. Way too kind. Somebody else would probably get frustrated or angry. 

Anyway, that sounds fake, but okay. If he wants to be called in another name who are you to disagree? Maybe he is running away from the mafia or something? 

“Ushiya - Ushiji - Ushiwa,” you try, but your tongue ends up tangled. You grimace, trying once more, “Ushikima?”

He shakes his head and you swear somebody giggles - you don’t know if it’s the redhead or people from your team, too engrossed in your new acquaintance. 

“If you have trouble remembering it,” he says simply, “Just call me by my name.” 

“Your name?” you reiterate. Yeah, you don’t remember it. How are you supposed to? He should be happy you remember his last name! You wrinkle your nose, thinking about how to say it without sounding too rude. You don’t have to worry, though. He understands you instantly, even if you are quiet. 

“It’s Wakatoshi,” he informs you bluntly, causing the redhead nearby to snicker. 

_Wakatoshi_. You grimace. That’s - that’s a mouthful. Like, it’s not like it’s a bad name or anything like that. It’s just so long, way even longer than his last name. Why people choose such long names for children anyway? 

“Too long,” you decide immediately, surprisingly bold, “Give me something shorter.” 

If that someone else, you wouldn’t dare to be so dauntless so fast into your relationship. He is different, though. He feels comforting. 

“You can shorten it, then,” he determines without blinking an eye. You smile at that. 

“Waka - san,” you hum in agreement, before you straighten up your posture, looking him straight into the eyes, “I’m not _the girl who threatened Shittykawa_. Please, call me [Name]. It’s nice to meet you.”

* * *

Ushijima and MC: enter 

Intelligence: exits the room 

They are so dumb that they actually transcend time and space, and get along somehow. So, yeah, lmao. Hope you enjoyed it. We have the ending of the match, stupid shit, bonding, and Ushiyama! Or should I say, Waka? What do you think about it? :D 

I used a fragment of Avril Lavigne’s _Here’s to never growing up_ in this chapter. Don’t know why, but this song resonates a lot with me when I think about this fanfic. There are a lot of songs like that, that just, you know, fit. It’s fun to write them in. 

Thank all of you for your support. I’m practically crying because of how much attention this story gets. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.


	20. Interlude: His (Their) Sun.

A long time ago, the world used to be so much easier, so much simpler, so much blither with only him, Osamu, and their mom. They used to don’t need anything more, no matter what others have liked to claim. What did they know about them, anyway?

“Where is your dad?” 

“Why do you only have a mom? That’s strange.” 

“Didn’t you hear? Their dad left them because their mom was so freaky-”

Only stupid rumors that never failed to make Osamu angry. He was always the first one to throw the punch, the first one to fight, and the last one to back down. Acting all cool and aloof, as if he didn’t have care in the world, when in reality, it was so, so easy to rile him up. Atsumu followed him without any thought, never letting him go. 

_He is stupid and ugly, and stinky,_ he used to think, _But he is mine, mine, mine. He belongs to me. He is my brother, my twin, and don’t you dare to hurt him._

“My beautiful boys,” their mother said, her voice tender and loving, as she placed a band-aid on Atsumu’s face, “My brave warriors, trying to fight for their mother. Violence is not always the answer, sweethearts. Mama is proud of you, but she hates to see you so hurt. If you hear anything mean, tell me, Atsumu, Osamu. Your mama is much stronger than she looks.”

 _What if_ , they both pouted as they laid in their beds at night, _What if they hear something mean about her_? 

Their mama always looked like the strongest person on the planet. How could she not, when she took all of the whispers, all of those hateful comments, with nothing but a gentle smile? When she never looked angry, when she never looked sad, when she never said a word about their father? 

Children, he knew, have two parents, yet Osamu and Atsumu had one. 

“Osamu,” he decided then, determination like a flame in his chest, “We don’t need a dad.” 

Even in the darkness of their room, Osamu’s eyes burned like a fire, “Mama is better than ten dads anyway.” 

It was - it still is - _the_ truth of his life.

The grass is green, the sky is blue, and they don’t a father. Who would, when their mother was _Shouko Miya_? Their mama is a woman so wonderful, so kind, so good that Atsumu felt he _(they)_ didn’t deserve her in his _(their)_ lives. All she ever wanted was for them to be happy. All she ever wanted was to protect them. 

They didn’t need protection. Not now, not back then, and they knew it very well. So, instead, they would be the ones to shield her from any harm. 

She was theirs and when he was young, he thought it was enough. He thought that it would always stay the same. He thought he had everything he would ever need. He was wrong, of course, he was, but he cannot help but think that with Osamu and mama, the world used to be so much easier. 

“Tsumu, I can’t find [Name] anywhere.” 

_So much easier._

He would not change it for anything else. 

Atsumu lifts his eyes, the panic seizing the hold of his chest as he suddenly has trouble breathing. A sweat rolls through Osamu’s forehead, his eyes wide in fear and he knows that his younger brother is not joking. He would never joke about something like that. Not about [Name], never about her. 

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” he asks, trying to hold in the rousing dread. 

_Gone, gone, gone, just like she always would, you knew it, you knew she would disappear one day and you could do nothing to stop her. You could never hold onto her. You could never protect her, not back then and not now, never._

_Vacant eyes, bruised lips, and a small voice that breaks your heart: I’m fine, she said, when she was not fine, nothing was ever fine, [Name], where are you?_

“She’s not in her fucking room,” Osamu answers, fists clenching, “She is not in any room. She is gone.” 

She cannot be. Atsumu cannot let her, not now, not now, it’s too soon, he still did not tell her. It is too soon and he refuses to let her disappear, to let her be hurt again, to see those haunting eyes once more in reality. 

Without thinking twice, he stands up, disregarding everything that was in his hands. He ignores the pandemonium that is left of their room and madly dashes to the door, kicking it open and going towards her room. Nothing else exists for the moment, as fear drives him faster and faster until he stands in front of her room. He slams the doors open, praying for all of it to be just a stupid prank.

But the room is empty, devoid of her warmth and her smile, and Atsumu wants to break something, anything. 

“Sunshine?” he shouts out, desperately holding onto the hope that she is somewhere, “Are you there, sunny? This joke is not funny, damn it!” 

It is not, it is not, it is not. 

No answer comes. No heavenly voice responds to his inquiry with a giggle. No delicate hands come from behind, wrapping themselves around his back and whispering softly sweet reassurances. 

He inhales, eyes jumping from place to place as he moves in and, purely by instinct, starting to search the room. She is no under the bed, not in the wardrobe, she is not here, she is not here, she is not here, _she is not there_ -

_Gone, gone, gone, again, and you couldn’t protect her, again._

“Tsumu,” his brother’s voice feels like a slap on the face, “She’s gone.” 

It’s a nightmare. It has to be. She was left alone for a second, always just for a second, how could she be _gone_? Lost her again, just because they were too stupid, too neglectful, too- _He wants her back._ He wants his little Sunshine, the light of his life, _back_. 

He turns around, eyes boring into Osamu. 

The appearance of his twin scares him shitless. 

Samu, his stupid, ugly brother, looks so _lost, furious,_ and _guilty_ at the same time. The silverette is terrified. 

“It’s hard to get into Osamu’s skin,” they say, smiling teasingly, “You should be more like him. It’s so easy to rile you up, Atsumu.”

He laughs at them every time. 

His twin may claim to be the calmer one, the one who thinks, the mature younger brother who doesn't attack first anymore, but it’s all facade. Tsumu knows it better than anyone else. Osamu built walls around himself, not letting in, not showing what he thinks, just to protect both himself and Atsumu (and _her, always her_ ). 

He still gets provoked just as easy as when he was a child, he still wants to be the one to throw the first punch, he still wants to fight and protect, but he just controls himself better. He just pretends to be better. It is so much easier now that Atsumu doesn’t shy from conflict himself, now that Atsumu doesn’t need as much protection as he used to. 

Osamu now can count on his older brother to take the lead, to shield him from the responsibility of making the first step.

(A long time ago, in a land far away, Atsumu used to cry easily, and Osamu was always there to protect him.

A long time ago, in a land far away, Atsumu hated to see his brother get into fights, and so he stopped crying, deciding to follow him into the fight instead.)

But [Name]. 

[Name] is special. She always was. 

_Darling_ , Osamu called as he gently caressed her face with the back of his hand. She laid at his knees, her eyelids half-closed, the mouth opened a little, dazed and asleep, innocent and pure, trusting that nothing will ever hurt her when they are near (their presence caused enough harm already). _Little star_ , he used to call her years ago until he grew embarrassed of nickname (until all stars in her eyes vanished).

Grinding his teeth, with jaw firmly shut and clenched fists. His stupid, _little_ brother, his second half, is scared out of his mind. He is furious beyond any control point and he doesn’t know what to do, so he looks up to him. And is it not ironic, because Atsumu doesn't know what to do too. _Atsumu doesn’t know what to do_. 

They are both helpless, again. 

She’s left alone, _again_. 

What sort of _friend_ is he (what sort of _friends_ are _they_ )?

They don’t deserve her, they don’t deserve her light and her fire that still keeps on burning, even after all she has been through. He thinks of her lovely smile and of vacant eyes, and he can’t, can’t _anymore_ \- 

The terror crashes into him like a wave, nearly making him stumble. It's an overwhelming force that nobody, but her, only her, _but she is gone, she disappeared_ , could ever hope to stop. It shakes him to his very core, leaving his soul and heart in shambles. He wants her back, safe and sound, unharmed, his sunlight- 

The memories resource again, vacant, vacant eyes, and a small voice. Blood on the covers, broken bones, the doctor’s voice, all o it haunts him, the living nightmare once more. He finds himself struggling to breathe, struggling to stand, struggling to live.

_He wants her back._

Osamu’s hands slam into his shoulders and he is suddenly back, back with his brother, but without the most important person in his life-

“When was the last time you have seen her, Tsumu?” his brother’s tone remains even as he grasps into Atsumu with the desperation of a dying man, “It couldn’t be longer than ten minutes, right? We can still find her. She is still fine, fuck, she is. She is a fighter, she wouldn’t-” 

That’s what they thought before. 

_Before, before, before._ Before they saw her like that, before they broke her, before they took away her smile. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, voice shaking as his tongue burns, “At most fifteen minutes?” 

They exchange gazes and something pulses through their minds. Osamu and Atsumu share the bond nobody can sever, that’s _the_ truth. 

There is a lot of nonsense, stupid superstition about twins in the world. Telepathy, they would call it to their grimace. Osamu and Atsumu can't communicate in their minds and they are both better for it. There is no magical trust that can shake the earth. 

They just _know_ sometimes. Just like in that moment, Atsumu knows they both remember her words and shiver at the same time.

 _Time is the most important when you are looking for a missing person_ , she told them as dangled her legs in the water, grinning from one ear to another, _Like, if you don’t find them by twenty-four hours they can be dead._

Dead.

It was scary, how she could tell things like with a smile, not caring in the slightest.

[Name]. Dead.

No. No. 

_No_. 

He cannot - he doesn’t want to - he refuses to - She _cannot_ be dead. He refuses to entertain this motion. She _cannot_ be hurt. They have to move. They have to go to the police _now_. They need to find her _now_. He _(they)_ will listen to her droning about history, or murder, or whatever she wants to as longs as she comes back, that he can promise, just-

She is theirs. She belongs to them. She has to be back, safe and sound, in his _(their)_ arms, holding his _(their)_ hands, teasing him _(them)_ back. 

“Police!” 

“She was kidnapped!” 

"We need to search for her in the whole hotel, she could be here - "

Gods, let her come back. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, now?! In Miyagi!? Is that some sort of joke?!” 

“Are there any serial killers on the loose here?! Samu, what if there are?!” 

Their thoughts are in disarray, and so they move, opening doors to every room, looking for her, screaming, begging and arguing, just going through motions of search, as they think - try not to think - about her dead, abandoned body. About her suffering. About her gone, gone, gone- 

“What is happening?” 

He looks up to their captain and begs.

“Captain! We can’t find [Name] anywhere! She is not in her room and we have to contact the police- “ 

“She was kidnapped, captain, she would never go alone- “

“Wait, Samu, she would. You know her, she is so stupid- “ 

“You are the only one stupid, Tsumu. [Name] did nothing wrong in her life whatsoever, fuck you!” 

Kita would roll his eyes, Atsumu swears, but he is a robot. Robots don’t roll their eyes, they just glare you into submission.

“Did you try to contact her at all?” 

C-contact her? How? Should they try to shout even louder? 

“Did you call her? With the phone?” 

_Oh._

“Well, no - “ 

Stupidity has to be contagious. There is no other explanation why they didn’t think about it. He swallows loudly, taking his phone out of the pocket. He slowly - no, no, no, his nerves are too much. He can’t do it. He is going to freak out even more. With this thought, he shoves his phone to his brother. 

“Samu, do this.”

“What now? You do this.” 

“Is that really the time to argue?!”

“Aran is right. Paper, scissors, rock?” 

Kita glares at them.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to do this.” 

He takes a deep breath. He hates feeling so weak, so pathetic, so small against the world. He knows his worth. He knows he shouldn’t hate himself so much. He does it anyway. She’s gone, gone, gone. Something happened and he ( _they were not_ ) was not there to help her, time, and time, and again. 

Just like last time. 

“Tsu-chan?” 

He feels his knees getting weak and Samu leans in to catch him before he falls to the ground.

* * *

There used to be three of them: him, Osamu, and their mama.

Then she came into his ( _their_ ) lives. 

She decided to do it by kicking and screaming. 

Literally.

He can still remember the first time he saw her, though it’s more like he felt before he saw her. Her leg, kicking him out of the swing he claimed as his own. He was on the sand as Osamu's cackling echoed around, as all of the other children were shocked into silence. Samu saw her first and Atsumu never was able to forget it. 

His brother took a lot of her firsts - he was the first one that saw her, the first one to befriend her, the first one to hold her hand. Atsumu was the first one she touched. The first one who tousled her hair. The first one to embrace her.

_(The first one who wanted her.)_

He turned around then, angry and ready for the fight. Then, he blinked in surprise, expecting a bigger kid, not somebody like her, but nobody could ever expect somebody like Date [Name], not truly.

Standing before him was a just little girl, hair tucked into an extravagant braid, wearing an elegant dress and shoes. She looked so out of place at the playground that Atsumu couldn’t move for a second, frozen ( _the image imprinted in his mind forever_ ). 

He found later, much later, that she was just coming back from one of the song contests she participated in. One person - the one she used to call her archrival - annoyed her so much that when she noticed somebody else in the swing, she snapped. 

She was always so reckless and stupid.

“Donkey!” she called him as she swiftly took his fallen cap. She stuffed it at her head without hesitation, before jumping to his swing, “Get lost, it’s my turn!” 

“You witch!” 

How could such a first meeting end with them becoming so close? Their relationship was doomed from the start, and yet. 

Yet.

They just fought so much. Stupid, little children not knowing what will follow, how they will care, how they will fall. Osamu was always the faster one, the more receptive one, so when he took a liking to her instantly, Atsumu should know. He should have just given up, let in the fate. He didn't, of course he didn’t, instead choosing to punch her.

Still, the very next day, Osamu was holding hands with her, treating her like she was the star of his universe. He didn’t like it back then, the affection his brother held to that little girl who was an outsider, a stranger, who didn’t belong with them. He started to detest her, always trying to deter her from following them, but she was stubborn. 

When she loved, she loved fiercely, with all of her heart, just like the Sun. 

And so, Osamu was not the first to punch. He was now the one following her with laughter stuck in his throat. He was now the one to cover her as she launched herself into the group of children, screaming, “Don’t you dare talk about my friends like that, you stupid nose!” 

Like an idiot, he went after them.

Like an idiot, he fell too.

* * *

Like idiots, they rush off, not even caring to explain, to say anything, to try to be rational. Osamu goes first like he always did, the moment he hears the address from the phone he is already racing ahead, not looking back. Atsumu stops for the moment as he ends the conversation and nearly crushes his phone in his hand. 

_Tripped over_. _Hurt_. _Bruises. Bloody nose._ Took care of it? What the fuck do you mean, _took care of it_? Don’t make him laugh, you disgusting pig. She was hurt by one of you. She was injured by your carelessness. By _yours_. They can't even not fucking look over their own feet like stupid children, ending up hurting somebody belonging to _them_. 

_Tripped over. Hurt. Bruises. Bloody nose._

_Vacant eyes. Small voice. Blood on the covers._

He tries to control his fury, knowing well he can't do anything right now, but it’s impossible, anger flowing through his blood. He inhales, going against the whim, and hurling the phone back into his pocket instead. He looks at Kita for a second and sees his captain nods. He doesn’t wait further, joining the mad dash his brother started.

 _Don't think about her bruised face,_ he tells himself, _Don't think about her vacant stare, about her broken whisper, about the way she trembled. Don't just go, there is no time_. 

She is not dead. There is no dead body to be found. She was no taken, she is not gone, not truly. They can still reach her. That's good. That’s good. That’s _good_. He still wishes he could spike a ball into the asshole’s face.

* * *

The world changed again: it was him, Osamu, [Name], and mama now. 

The adults used to joke they were joined at the hip. 

_As thick as thieves_ , his granny would say when she caught them in the middle of the prank, _and as mischievous as ones._ They would laugh and scatter before she could catch them. Atsumu didn't question the way his heart leaped in joy when she was calling them that back then. 

The two became the three. 

He used to think that they would be three together forever.

This is how he remembers his childhood: he, Osamu, and [Name] running through Himawari Ryokan in yukatas and hiding from aunt Miyako. The three of them, looking for pretty seashells in the sea, and finding only crabs or clams, and hurling said foundings at the other children. Going to school and crashing [Name]’s lessons, because they wanted to see her, to play with her, and didn't understand that she was younger. Going to her song contests and talking trash about other contestants. Glaring at her older brother every time they got a chance. Playing, being children, carefree.

Then came the volleyball. 

It was as life-changing as meeting [Name]. As eye-opening. Suddenly, there was nothing else, just hunger he couldn't quite understand or control. He just wanted to play, and never stop. Struggling behind his twin, working hard to catch up, to be better at everything, setting, spiking, serving. 

Osamu followed him - no, he led him, being better, and better until finally, Atsumu caught up to him. Even when he finally could compete with his twin on the same level, it was not enough. He wanted more. He wanted to do better. To be the best. Osamu, snarling and angry, followed him once more.

For every step they took, she was always behind, smiling and cheering them on. His ( _their)_ best friend. His ( _their_ ) only friend. But she was so much more and he (they) were blind to not see it.

* * *

Life changes. It always does.

He used to be stupid, stupid, and young, and blind. He used to be like Samu. He used to be like [Name]. He used to think the friendship was enough, that they were no more, that they didn’t need more. As if he forgot. He ( _they_ ) were always so hungry. Always wanting more and more. Never quite satisfied.

It changed. Everything does. 

He doesn’t remember why. He doesn’t know why. This is just what happened, one of their petty squabbles. They ended up wrestling on the floor, and somehow she was sitting at his chest, the rays sun behind her silhouette, her grin mischievous as she glared down. 

Everything was fine. 

Then, _she leaned down._

A drop of the sweat, falling down, down, down from her neck, tracing a curve around it, tempting and seductive. _Her neck_ , he noticed, not knowing that one thought will change everything and he will be lost in her forever. His eyes slowly followed it down _to-_

His breath hitched.

She always liked to wear their clothes. He didn’t use to think a lot of it, never admiring how right she looked in them, how much she belonged in them. Even back then, they just hanged at her in an amusing way, way too big, never really showing anything indecent. And yet, when she dipped down like it, suddenly it hanged down, showing just enough, _just_ a little bit - 

A glimpse of her skin. Just a bit, something innocent and pure, nothing that should shock his entire system, tremble the comforting friendship they shared for so many years. It was so, so little and happened so, so fast. 

And yet, it changed everything. It sparked something he has hidden deep inside of himself, awakened part of his mind that didn’t want to be woken up. Something primal, disturbing, wrong and hungry, hungry beyond belief. At the same time, it was something right, something that always was here, just at the edge of his mind, waiting to devour him wholly at the moment’s notice. 

[Name], their stupid, best friend was a _girl_. 

He knew it before. Of course, he knew and used to detest the fact that she cannot share changing rooms with them, that she cannot take baths with them, that she was supposed to be separated because she was their best friend.

She was _theirs_. 

“[Name]-chan is not like you or Osamu,” his mama told him once, a soft smile playing on her lips and hand on his head, stroking his hair gently, “Both of you have to protect her, okay? She is a girl, after all.”

“That’s stupid, mama. [Name] can take care of herself,” he answered back then, eyes dropping to his bruises, “She’s super scary, mama. You should have seen her.” 

“She kicks so hard, mama,” Osamu nodded with excitement, infinitely proud of everything his ( _their_ ) friend did as he shoves his arm in their mom’s face, “See, see, see, this one, this bruise? She gave me this. Isn’t she the coolest?” 

Their mom laughed, “You will understand when you are older, sweethearts. Just take of her, okay?” 

He wished he didn’t. 

A light, casting down on her and tempting him, teasing him, begging him. She is beautiful. Lovelier than the sunrise across the sea, sweeter than summer’s first fruit, more intoxicating than the fragrance of roses. 

She was too good to be true, to exist, to be within reach of his hand, and yet, his hands on her thighs, fingers grazing against her soft skin. Was she always so slender, fragile, so small, so beautiful? How could he not see her, truly see? How could he not want her before? She truly was different than him (than _them_ ), always and forever.

_(She still is, no matter how much light disappeared from her eyes.)_

He was the one who was able to hold her, to touch her, to look at her. Her legs fitted so well in his hands as if they belonged there, to him. As if she was his to hold, his to possess, his to - 

How easy he could pick her up? It's not like she would fight him. It's not like she would want to. He would place her against the wall easily, and then he would come close, so much closer, so dangerously close. He would feel her breath, warm and alluring, on his face. He would feel her breasts firmly against his chest. He would feel her legs wrapping around his waist, so close and yet so far away to the burning inside of his body. His hands would stay on would lean in, and then - his eyes went to her mouth - and _then_. 

His lips on hers, devouring, just taking and taking everything he could, no longer hungry, being finally satisfied, and yet, yearning for more. Kissing her senseless, until she couldn't longer breathe, stealing her breath away and taking it for himself. 

His palm in her silken locks, her arms intervened at his neck, closer, closer, closer, ever closer, until there was nothing between the two of them, nothing standing in his way to- She would moan into his mouth, pleading for _more_ and _more_. He would tease her, calling her greedy, before giving in, because, really, how could he not? 

He could still see it. He wanted _(wants)._ He desired _(desires)_. He yearned _(yearns)_ for her with every cell in his being. For her touch, for her smile, for her words, for her everything.

She belonged _(belongs)_ to him. _To them_. She _(is)_ was theirs, his and Samu’s, and nobody’s else. Nobody else could have her, hold her, see her like that. They should take her, mark her, make them theirs before - before - before she was out of their reach. Before she was gone.

“AtsuAtsu? You ‘kay?” 

_Her voice_.

He was not okay. Not then. Not after. Not even now. Never again was he truly okay. He doesn’t remember what happens next. The only thing his mind can recall is Osamu’s cold glare and confusion on [Name]’s as they left him paralyzed on the floor. 

In the following days, he found himself observing her more. The way she moved. The way she talked. The way she smiled. There was no one thing that he could hate, that disgusted him, that made her unattractive. He could find one thing he didn’t love about her, and that. That scared him. 

_(It doesn’t anymore)_

* * *

[Name] was not perfect. She was annoying. She was foul-mouthed, loud, and constantly angry. She was stupidly stubborn and did not possess any shame whatsoever. For the longest time, she was the one that got them into trouble. The one who started shit. The one who they took care of as if she was an annoying little sister. 

And yet.

She was anything but their little sister. 

He wanted _(wants)_ her.

The desire, ever-burning below his skin, cannot be suppressed, cannot be fought. It was an overwhelming, tempting, disgusting feeling that takes all of his reasoning away. He just wanted her. In his arms, clinging to him, smiling between kisses until she cannot hold back, she just has to - 

He loved _(loves)_ her. He loved _(loves)_ all of her without question, without hesitation, without a doubt, without logic, like a mad man. 

He has fallen in love with her before he even understood what _love_ is. Maybe at the moment when she kicked him out of that stupid swing. Maybe at the moment when she held his hand for the first time. Maybe at the moment when he heard her sing for the first time. 

He doesn’t know, not even now when it started. He only knows there is not a single memory in which he does not love her.

This revelation destroyed everything. 

He found himself weak, insecure, full of self - doubt and hate. Suddenly, he was so jealous all the fucking time, even of _Samu._ He found himself jealous of other boys. He found himself jealous of other girls. He just wanted her, desperately, selfishly, to be only for him. If he was not enough for her, then maybe for both him and _Samu_. 

_Just stay with us (me), he wanted (wants) to say, I will give you everything you will ever wish for. Just don't go. Don't leave._

His brother loved her as well.

That was so easy to see once he knew where to look. The eyes that stayed on her lips way too long. The hand that was first to search for her touch. The way he was always, to protect her, to hold her, to offer comfort, to be anything she needed. From the first day, always looking behind his shoulder, making sure she is alright. 

He used to go into fights first. Never when she was there, too afraid, too concerned, too scared about hurting her. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Tsumu?” Osamu questioned him one day, anger easy to hear in his voice, “You are fucking so out of this, you play like complete scrub. Are you still angry I’m the official setter? Just get better, asshole, [Name] is worrying.” 

“Nothing! Nothing at all,” he responded before he swallowed and decided to just ask, “It’s just. [Name] is really pretty, right?” 

“She is the most beautiful person on this planet,” his twin didn't even stammer. He was not a bit embarrassed with his answer and rolled his eyes when he saw his flabbergasted face, “She is the prettiest, you asshole. What the fuck are you on? Why are we talking about it like it is something new?” 

_Do you really not see it?_

* * *

_Do you really not?_

_You use every excuse to touch her. You will do anything to her. How can you not understand, you oblivious idiot? How can you be so blind? Even now, years later, as you run and run, don’t look back, don’t look ahead, your only goal being always the same._

His twin slams the doors of the gym open. 

Would it be okay, to stay like that forever? In whatever relationship they were? Just three of them, enjoying each other's company, being together always. Come hell or high water. He would love it. Staying both with his stupid, oblivious brother and [Name], the densest person on the planet.

If only that was possible. 

If only he didn't want so much more.

Atsumu tried dating a girl only once. 

So many girls confessed their undying love to him. So many girls pleaded for him to consider dating. Love letters were always in his locker, pink and red, pouring out in waves no matter how bad his reputation was. He always ignored them, no matter how flattered they made him. He didn’t want to date anyone, too lost in volleyball (too lost in Date [Name]). 

He agreed only once. 

He can't even remember the girl’s name or face. She was just _wrong_ , too tall and with dreadful hair color that was no similar to [color] at all. More than enchanting, her smile was ghastly and dreadful, and her laugh made him shiver with disgust.

He heard people calling her beautiful. His teammates talked about how they are jealous of him. And _yet_. He could only see Samu, holding hands with their childhood friend, not caring a bit about him, wishing him good luck as they left him alone, behind them.

Back against the wall. Her legs around his waist. His hands on her hips. Their mouths against each other. The little moan she released. No, fuck it all, that’s wrong, that’s not enough, that's a poor imitation of what could be. That's wrong, wrong, wrong - He stepped away, ignored her screams for explanations, just walked away until he finally was home, home where Samu and [Name] were.

She wasn’t enough. 

She was not [Name].

* * *

He broke off with her after a week and never looked at another girl anymore. Maybe it was unfair of him to the girl, but he couldn't bring himself to care. No one can compare to [Name], he knows. No one can come close, he knows. 

There is no way to truly describe [Name] Date. No matter how much he would try, no matter what words he used, the picture would be incomplete, empty, imperfect. 

She is the Sun, the ever-burning star at the center of his _(their)_ universe. She is the shine that goes through the darkness when all is lost. She is the Supernova, the star that burned too brightly, was hurt too much, the one they left alone to turn to nothing but ashes.

Not again. Never _again_. 

So he looks at her, ever so slowly touching her soft skin. He caresses her cheek with tenderness, with the love he only reserved for her. Osamu, being the blind idiot, kisses her forehead, not even thinking, overflowing with _need_ , relief, and affection.

“You’re _safe_.” 

She is his little Sunshine, his only Sunshine, his precious friend, his beloved. It doesn't matter, he tells himself if she is going to see him only as a friend. For her, Atsumu can become whoever she needs: be it a lover or a brother. For her, he can bear with his love, bear with jealousy, bear with this loneliness. As long as her smile is safe, as long as she is safe.

If somebody tries to take her away, to hurt her, to break her, he will scorch the earth and watch the world burn.

* * *

Sneakily updates day too early OwO This one takes place when MC is chilling in Karasuno's gym. It's all over the place, not gonna lie, but loved writing it. Next update is going to be up in two days, tho. Hope you enjoy this one for now.

This chapter was edited on 09.02.2021.


	21. In which Kobe and Sendai are not so different (this time getting banned is not your fault, totally not, you swear).

Wakatoshi Ushijima is probably the second-best being on this planet. Just after Shinsuke, of course, because nobody will beat your robo - dad, no matter how awesome and easy to talk to they are.

The point is. Waka is really, really easy to talk to and you feel sorry for even thinking he would crush your head. He couldn’t ever, no matter how much muscles he’s got (and you’re pretty sure his muscles have muscles and those muscles have muscles). His eyes are the color of a teddy bear’s color, and that should be your first clue. He’s just a big, cuddly teddy bear. You want to hug him and then give him hot chocolate to drink. 

You hum lightly. 

“You are really, really cool, Waka - san.” 

“I’m not cold, not really,” he furrows his brows, “Thank you for your concern.” 

“Not like that,” you tsk - tsk at him, waving your index finger at, well, not at his face, because he is really, really tall. In the direction of his face then? Yeah, that will do, “Like, you are amazing. I would totally want to befriend you, if you didn’t date Shittykawa,” you wrinkle your nose in disgust, “What’s up with that? That’s some horrible taste, you know.” 

Really. Like. He deserves so much better. Maybe you could even let him date Atsu if your childhood friend promised not to behave like total trash. Waka’s face morphs a little, his brow arches, and - huh, you read something wrong? 

But, of course, this is a moment when you feel hands on your shoulders. Both of the twins decided they can’t wait a little bit longer and let you communicate with other, normal human beings. No, you are to be followed by the demons to the end of the world. 

“Wait, _this_ Ushijima is dating that loser?” asks Atsu, blinking rapidly, “He was total trash through and through. I would think one of the best spikers in the country would have better taste.” 

You hear something cutting and accusing in his tone. You curl your lip. Of course, he wants to start a fight again. This is how he shows his affection, right. That’s practically flirting for him. 

“He was so lame,” adds Osamu without batting an eye, “All talk, no skills. You can do better, Ushijima - san.” 

The whitehead behind your maybe-future-friend gets angry at you, and if twins didn’t hold you securely, you would take a step back. And then probably come back and punch his stupid face off. 

“Hey, you little brats!” 

Rude. You are not tall, but twins are. What a jerk. He is interrupted by the Red Eyes who jumps before his companion. He is energetic. You scrutinize him as he speaks. Huh. Spiky. Red. You would like to call him Uchiha, but he doesn’t have black hair. You focus on him. 

“Hoho, that’s interesting!” he singsongs horribly out of tune, “Wakatoshi - kun, dating Oikawa? I could totally see it,” he nods like a mentor from anime, as he holds his chin in his thumb, “That’s the reason you’re telling him to come to Shiratorizawa, Wakkun? You are in L - O - V - E! Love!” 

Matchmaker, you decide, Or maybe Eros from Greek mythology? Discounting his red eyes and red hair, he totally looks like a little cupid. Okay, not a little one - he’s tall because your life sucks, everybody is tall, ugh. Just once, just once, you would like to meet somebody actually who is shorter than you and who is not a child. But, yeah, he makes you think of one. So he is not christened as Cupid. 

“That’s not it,” Waka answers levelly to Cupid, before shifting his gaze to you, “I’m not dating Oikawa. He is indeed a skilled player, but I don’t hold any deeper feelings towards him.” 

“Don’t tell it in front of SemiSemi, Wakkun,” shoots back Red Cupid dramatically, “Skilled player? More like a skilled setter! More skilled than him, anyway. He is going to cry. Not to even mention poor, heartbroken Kenjiro.” 

“Shut up, Satori, they are not dating,” the whitehaired glares at him with, “I don’t know how stupid somebody has to be to misrepresent that.” 

Huh? Wait. He just called you stupid. To your face. With everybody watching. A wise man once said: The murder is always the answer. And if it’s not, you are not using enough murders.

"I’m gonna fucking annihilate you,” you look up to him, a pleasant grin on your face, “Tear out all of your teeth one by one - “ 

You feel yourself being safely tucked behind Osamu, before ending your threat. He gently takes hold of your hand, caressing it with his thumb, trying to calm you and stop you from the murder. It works, a little because his presence is always soothing to you. Be as that may, you still want to punch the whitehead into his dumb face.

“Stupid, huh?” you swear you hear Atsumu’s smile, as he takes the lead in this conversation, “Yeah, she is a little dumb, but she’s _ours_ , you know? So if you want to say something about her, say it to me. I will be very happy to correct your attitude, trash.” 

“What’s this? What’s this? Fight to happen?” Cupid is too excited about it. Definitely too excited. You hear Rin’s groan.

Before any of you can react to those words, and yeah, you would like to react very much, probably with your fist, Waka turns to his teammate. His demeanor completely changes. His jaw is a little clenched, and his eyes are flashing with irritation. Anger, you guess. He is angry. He is angry on your behalf?

“Eita,” he glares at the fucker and the whitehead lowers his gaze, looking a bit ashamed, “She’s not stupid. That was awful of you,” he scolds him sharply, “I’m sorry for my teammate, [Name].” 

His voice softens as he addresses you. He even bows a little in front of you and the twins. That's. Well. You didn’t expect anything like that. You are pretty sure your ears redden a little at his serious stare. That’s kind. It’s really a lot more than you expected from a stranger. 

“That’s okay, Waka - san,” you tell him as you lean from behind Sam, keeping your tone level and pleasant, “It will be even better when I will skin him alive.” 

“Please, don’t. That’s illegal.” 

Illegal things are the funniest. You pout at him childishly and gently squeeze Sam’s hand in reassurance prior to releasing it from his grasp. It's always good to know he has your back. It's always good to know both of them to do. The thing is. Something tells you don't need their protection from him. He's surprisingly gentle from somebody so big. And yeah, you can't live on pure instinct, but his actions actually only confirmed your thoughts. Did he and Atsu see what he did for you? He apologized to you even though he didn't do anything wrong. His teammate did. That’s like, super, super nice. Extremely nice. The nicest. 

You are pretty damn sure you nearly sparkle at him when your eyes meet again. He doesn't actually smile, but you feel him returning your cheerful gesture nonetheless. Satisfied, he shifts his attention. 

“Miya,” Ushiyama now addresses your friend, “We don’t plan to lose to you.”

That's a change of tone, to be sure. Osamu next to you looks nonchalant enough, but you glimpse something familiar in his honey-colored eyes. Sparks of anger are carefully hidden, as he meets the challenge head-on. Atsu is a lot less subtle, simply chuckling at him arrogantly. He is going to say something like _bring it on_ , doesn’t he? This feels like a scene from _Naruto_ or other shounen manga you read, gee. Is Ushijima supposed to be a rival character, Sasuke to Atsumu and Sam’s Naruto? Atsu’s hair even fits, oh god, you did it, you cracked the code, you understand the universe now. 

That leaves one question, though. Who are you in this situation? You hope you are not Sakura. You really dislike Sakura. You drum your fingers on Osa’s shoulders. Who are you, huh? Oh, Lord. It’s so easy. What are you thinking about? You’re a _manager_. Responsible manager! 

You giggle at that, before clasping your hands behind your back. You stand on the fingers of your feet, stepping from behind your friend. You are feeling mischievous all of sudden. Who can blame you though? It’s so exciting. You look at Waka, and wow. He looks so determined. You are really in the manga. Gee, so fun!

“Nobody plans to lose, right?” you ask him as you lean to the side, eagerly bobbing your head, “So, don’t underestimate my dear childhood friends, kay?” 

That's manga - worthy line right there. He looks taken aback for a second, before responding to your challenge with a gentle smile. It's a nice smile, you can't help but think.

“That’s true,” he admits easily, but you are not done yet. 

“Do your best then, Waka - san,” you form a peace sign with your fingers, “Let’s have a fun match tomorrow.” 

“I always do my best on the court,” he tells you, nodding with approval, “I wouldn’t hold back.” 

Your lip curls in an even brighter smile at him. The two of you share a moment of mutual understanding before it is completely shattered. 

“I feel my intelligence dropping just from hearing this conversation,” you hear Atsumu’s voice, “Is that really one of the best aces in Japan? Sakusa is nothing like him…” 

“That’s really rude, Miya - kun!” Oh, Cupid heard him. He attacks immediately, “Our Wakatoshi - kun is special. He miracle boy, the one to - “

“Ugh, shut up, son of Satan,” comes Rin’s sassy response. Hey, Miya menaces are sons of Satan, don’t be discourteous to them, RinRin, “Nobody wants to listen to you.”

The best thing? He doesn’t even look at Cupid. His gaze is on the ceiling, as he holds his hands on the back of his neck and - maybe he contemplates something? He likes Schopenhauer, or so he claims, and the old philosopher was big on admiring nature to fight with existential emptiness. You squint your eyes. There is no greenery here, no matter how much you look. 

“Oho, you’re so rude, my archenemy!” Cupid pouts at the great depressed one, not a bit interested in the mystery of the gym’s ceiling, “So vindictive. So arrogant,” at those words, he darkens visibly, donning a malicious expression on his face, “Afraid of losing, aren’t you? We are going to crush you tomorrow, don’t worry.” 

Twins whip their heads at him instantly at that, hearing the challenge clearly in his voice. And they love good old competition. Mostly because they adore watching the broken faces of their rivals. Did you mention they are horrible human beings? Good. Cupid sweatdrops a little at their suddenly awakened spirit, not knowing he awakened the Kraken. 

“Crush _who_ , Satori - kun?” Atsumu places his hand on his waist, “Hey, Samu, I think I have a problem with my ears after all.” 

“It’s not your hearing problem, Tsumu,” Osamu sighs loudly, nearly dramatically placing his elbow on his twin’s shoulder, “There’s only so much bullshit your brain can tolerate in one day.” 

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m agreeing with demons for once,” Suna lazily puts up his middle finger, “Fuck off, please.” 

“Ina High is a scary place,” Cupid finally decides even as he turns to Waka, “Don’t you agree, Wakatoshi - kun?” 

“Yeah, Wakatoshi - _kun_ ,” Atsumu cuts in, his voice full of arrogance, “You saw it with your own eyes,” he points to his twin with his thumb, “I and that one are better than Puffykawa. We are not going easy at you.” 

Oh, that’s your cue to join! 

“Yup,” you confirm like a good childhood friend you are, nodding at Waka seriously, “They are better than Puffy, Waka - san. They are better than him at _everything_.” 

You turn to them, showing a thumbs up, only to find Atsumu becoming flustered again, trying to cover his face with his twin's shoulder, and Osamu rolling his eyes profoundly at his twin overreaction. 

“I see,” Waka’s brow arches up in acknowledgment yet again, not caring for your totally lame friends, “I will see you on the court then.” 

Shinsuke, who was standing impassively until then, just watching all of it unfolding, like a good, proud dad he is, moves now. He shifts his weight, his glare blazing into Waka with passion. 

“Ushijima,” he says to him, smiling lightly, “My underclassmen are amazing, are they not?” 

Kita Shinsuke smiling. 

Mother of Jesus. 

There is holy light on his face as he does so, coming from fuck knows where. You swear there is a choir of little angels singing, as you gaze at the blessed imagine that was created ahead of you. This. This. This. Kita’s smile had to be a present from the heavens above. You feel your heart racing and you do your best not to squeal like a fangirl at a concert. He just. _He just._

He looks so handsome it’s hard to breathe for the moment, hard to remember he is a human being, hard to remember you are alive and you are not supposed to be rooted to the ground. And you are not the only one thinking so if surprising gasps around are to go on. 

Your various teammates, with Osamu and Atsumu, look at him as the god, while Suna takes a discreet photo. _I will sell it_ , he mouths to you.

Yeah, you can always count on RinRin.

 _Send it to me,_ you tell him back. He grins. You will take it as an affirmation.

“We will see tomorrow,” Ushiyama answers, proving that he is not human, because who can look at Kita Shinsuke smiling and not answer with a smile of their own? He even nods at him in farewell, instead of being stunned, what the “Kita.”

And just like that, he turns around to leave, not looking back. It’s very much dramatic, you can give him that one. Seriously, are you in anime right now? You look at Cupid and Rude One. Oh shit, his hair makes you think of Kakashi’s because you are thinking about anime. You hate it. Ugh, you hate him. You don’t want to even think of your childhood crush and that bitch in the same category again, disgusting. They follow him without a question. Their jackets even billow dramatically. You watch them go in silence, still a little bit stunned. For a moment that’s it because there is no peace in this world allowed as long as demons live. 

“You still have a chance, Tsumu,” Osa whispers, smiling suggestively at his twin over your head as they go, “Go get ‘em.”

“Get lost, Samu,” answers his twin, as he leans forward, resting his chin on your shoulder. You fight off the sudden attack of pain going through your body, “Not surprised he doesn’t date Shittykawa. You probably misunderstood something, sunshine.” 

You furrow your brow, trying to imitate Waka’s serious stare.

“Are you suggesting I’m stupid, AtsuAtsu?” 

“I wouldn’t dare.” 

You kick him in the calf. 

“Taking Tsumu’s stupidity out of the way, though,” Osamu flashes a satisfied smirk at his twin, before turning around, “Hey, captain? Who did you call amazing?” 

“I didn’t hear it as well,” Suna nods, “Can you please repeat it to the camera?” 

* * *

Finding a restaurant serving ramen in Sendai is more complicated than you thought. Mostly because, while you aren’t banned anywhere in this city, you know shit about it, even with Google guiding your way. Yeah, right, Google. Twins arguing over Google guiding your way more like. 

“We are going left.” 

“It literally said to go right, you fuck.” 

“Shut up, jerk, it said left!” 

Rin, who somehow was convinced to go with you, deadpans at you. You don't know how you did, but he has come, willingly. He is not kidnapped, not abducted, not blackmailed. He wants to be here!

“Yeah, it’s so much fun that I feel the last of my will to live slowly leaving me. Oh, so slowly, I held on for it for so long.” 

“Shut up,” you shake your head, “RinRin, you lost your will to live years ago.”

“Okay, you got me there,” he sighs defeated, “But you know, maybe I would be able to restore it. If only somebody remembered that the mysterious Google voice said we are supposed to go straight.” 

“Straight it is, then,” you clap your hands, “Sam - chan, Atsu - chan, let’s go straight!” 

“What? I don’t want to.”

“I’m going to, only because you don’t want to, Tsumu.”

“Samu, you are such a rude jerk.” 

You grin at them and they start to lead you straight ahead anyway, trusting your words without hesitation.

So, how did you find yourself here, looking for salvation in the form of the soup? Hunger. After you finally cleaned the mess of the gym, Osamu decided that he wanted to eat. It wasn’t anything strange, he was always hungry after all, just like you. This day he craved ramen, though, and while you didn’t exactly want one, you wouldn’t say no, so you instantly agreed to get one. Democracy won yet again, giving Atsu no choice but to go with you rather than return to the hotel. 

Rin decided to join you. Or rather was convinced to join you, because you are now friends. He caught you, called you by your name, sorry, not sorry, you are not making rules, you are only enforcing them. Now you are never letting him go. He’s in for life. The four of you are friends! It makes your heartbeat accelerate. You have friends. Twins have friends. And all of you are going to eat ramen. How could the world be any better? You fight back the cheesy grin that threatens to appear on your face. 

You will never get over this fact, you think. Having friends, that's it, not eating ramen. Okay, both of them are giving you so much joy, but actually gaining a new friend is so much better than ramen, no matter how delicious it may be. 

Friends. With Rintarou Suna. You wonder what is his favorite color. What does he like to eat? Does he mind helping you bury a body or two, or maybe committing arson? 

“Hey, you know straight is not actually the left, demon number two?” 

“Shut up!” 

You ignore your friends promptly, you feel so giddy thinking about it, friends, friends, friends, oh, you are so going to blush, still thinking about Suna’s preferences. You will have to find time to ask, uhu - huh! Sometime. Not now. It’s too early. Too fast! You don’t want to spook him. 

“Oh, look, it’s here.” 

You look up to the sign of the small restaurant. Huh, that was fast. But yes, here you are. _Chindonchou, Chinese Ramen and Gyoza_ , you read. Gyoza, yummy. You could totally go for one or two or three - 

“You know, is it no more macabre than we have stolen gyoza’s recipe during the war from Chinese?” you muse aloud, your finger on your mouth, “Like, just think about it. There are so many awful things you hear about that time. And yet, delicious gyoza.” 

Atsumu groans.

“No history!” he declares, as he opens the doors to the restaurant, “Time to eat Sendai’s ramen,” he steps inside, “It’s totally not going to be as good as mama’s, though.” 

“No ramen is as good as the one mama’s doing,” Osamu agrees easily, slipping like the ones at Kobe. What sort of fucked up world is that? We travel for twelve hours just to eat the same things.”

“The worst timeline,” agrees easily Rin in his famous dead tone, as he waits for you to enter, “Because I’m here with you, of course.” 

You go inside. It's a small building, but warm and homely, and full of teenagers. There are free seats in the corner, though. Perfect. You are undeterred by Rin’s lack of enthusiasm. Friends forever. 

“So sweet of you to say, RinRin,” taunts Atsumu, before he looks at the menu of the restaurant, “What one will you go for? I could totally do tonkotsu.” 

“You always go for it,” Osamu criticizes him, “I would love ebi ramen. There is not even one good in Kobe.” 

“There’s one in the Harborland,” Rin informs the unintelligent masses, “I think it’s called Kaburaki Ramen or something?” 

Kaburaki Ramen? Oh, you remember it. Damn. That means -

“We are banned here,” you sigh, “I think SamSam cursed their chief for having a finger in his soup? Or was this the one where you started fighting over who ordered the one with pork?”

“Don’t know,” Osamu shrugs easily, “Don’t make a habit to remember shitty food.”

“I still can’t believe you were able to be banned in nearly all of Kobe’s restaurants,” Suna raises his eyebrows, looking a little bit more alive, “I am nearly impressed by your effort. But it was still an effort, you know. Too much work.” 

“It was easy with those two,” Atsu claims as the two of you smile innocently, leaning forward to the owner, “RinRin, I’m pretty sure the only reason they didn’t resort to cannibalism is because of that.”

Cannibalism is disgusting, so you would never resort to that, but you are not going to say oblivious. 

“You know,” you proceed easily next to him, just a step behind, hiding behind him like behind a shield, “Humans are supposed to have a similar DNA to bananas. Maybe we are tasting like them then?” 

“Yummy,” whistles greyhead appreciative, “Gonna remember this for a black hour. Watch yourself, Tsumu.” 

“Disgusting,” goes Atsumu, “Just plain disgusting.” 

“Welcome!” the owner of the restaurant sends his best marketable smile, completely ignoring your conversation, “What would like to order?” 

Before any of you can answer, Osamu is already next to him, ready to answer without even looking at the menu. 

“He’s going to stand here for hours,” Atsumu sighs, rubbing the back of his head, “How about I order for us and you two will go seat? Do you feel like anything, sunny?”

“Get me gyoza with vegetables, AtsuAtsu,” you demand, tugging the hem of his jacket, “I also want miso ramen, okay? With chicken, maybe. Or, do they have a vegetarian one? I’m craving veggies. The veggie monster demands veggies.” 

“‘Course, my precious sunshine,” he answers easily, patting your hair, “Your prince charming will take care of that. Do you need help as well, Rin - kun?” 

“You are so gross,” he sighs, but continues nonetheless, “Get me Shio, you waste space, please.” 

“You are so rude I have to think about it,” he waves you off, “Look after [Name], okay?” 

“We’re going to be like, five meters next to you?” 

“Something happens to her and we will kill you!” Atsu shouts anyway. 

You two share a look and unanimously decide to ignore him, waddling to empty seats like little ducklings. Rintarou, absolutely not caring about the world at large, just launches himself at the chairs, squatting at them and showing you a peace sign, sitting like a civilized human. Not to be outdone, you want to do the same - but are painfully reminded that’s a bad idea as soon as you move your shoulder a little too fast. No, your body wants you to be boring. Rolling your eyes, you fake - fall on the seat next to him.

“Nice, nice,” he bobs his head, “I would say two out of ten.” 

“Fucker,” you say without actual venom, your lips twitching, “May I slap you, sir?” 

“No,” he answers easily, sparks of amusement visible in his eyes, “You may not, my dear lady. Not on an empty stomach anyway. Your knights would behead me.”

You laugh at this. Miya twins knights? Yeah, more like Demon Lords. You turn your head to them, still ordering food and drinks animated, not caring about the chaos they cause. But thinking about your orders, wasn’t Rin very small? 

You tilt your head at him carefully. 

“Only Shio Ramen? It’s so little, RinRin.” 

He shrugs, taking his phone out. 

“Some people don’t have a void for the stomach. And for the wallet.” 

“You're an Inarizaki student,” you pop your lips, remembering the wealth of your school, “You all are disgustingly wealthy.” 

“Volleyball’s scholarship.” 

Ach. That makes sense. 

“Academics,” you agree easily, as you yet again spin strands of your hair against your finger. You have to start braiding it or something, huh. But it’s so hard to do things. 

“We’re all poor bitches.”

“Not twins,” you tell him, pride and love at the edge of your voice, “They are sons of _the_ Miya family, you know.”

“This means they are paying right?” 

You like the way he thinks.

“Probably,” you agree easily, stretching your fingers a little, “I certainly hope so. All of my allowances are practically gone at this point.” 

“Narutard,” he insults and you giggle happily, changing the focus of your gaze.

And you are met with brown, mocha eyes just at the table across. You nearly choke on your saliva and instinctively reach to hold something. Rin’s arm is your victim, as you grasp on his jacket for your dear life.

What. The. Actual. Fuck. He smiles at you. He smiles at you. Abort the mission, abort, it’s time to fucking escape, fuck damn - 

“[Name] - chan!” he waves at you, “It has to be fate after all!” 

At the sound of your name, Rin raises his gaze at him. You tremble with anger, fury, and definitely - not - fear. That person. That something. The insect. The flea. The fucking cockroach - 

“You have to be kidding me,” he sighs, “Hey, demons.” 

Osamu, who was happily waiting for his orders, turns around. His face darkens and he bores his death glare into Puffy. 

“Fuck,” he says as he elbows Atsumu, “Tsumu, tell me I’m going blind.”

Fuck indeed. 

“I wish I could, Samu,” Atsu sighs promptly, before placing his hand on his chin, thoughtfully, “Are you stalking us now, Shittykawa?” he smiles at him, throwing knives with his eyes, “That’s low, even for trash like you.” 

Osa doesn’t even try to contain his anger and you grimace. His patience has to be running low. You are getting into a fight this time. You pout, standing carefully and tugging on Rin to follow you. He does so, although begrudgingly, moaning the whole way. 

“Hey, Shittykawa,” Sam’s voice is sharp, cutting and murderous, “Get the fuck off here, we’re about to eat.” 

People tend to think Atsumu is the worst of them, but the truth is, he is not. Osamu may have mellowed with age, but, you know. Nobody goes between SamSam and food and lives to tell the tale. He should run while he still can. 

“Who the hell are you calling Shittykawa, you little brats?!” he stands up, not knowing what’s good for him “Were you taught not manners?! I’m your _senpai_! We were here first! You can leave anytime,” he sneers at them, but his face morphs as soon as he looks at you, “Not talking about you, [Name] - chan. You’re welcome to stay. Here, sit next to me?”

“Are you our upperclassman, if I have never seen you at nationals before?” ask him Atsu, tone full of derision, “There is nothing respectable about that, Tooru - kun.” 

You see his fist clenching, and you can’t help the somewhat panicked, somewhat angry shriek that goes from your throat. Nobody will hurt your friends! Nunu, no way, you refuse to let it happen!

“Don’t even talk to them, Puffy!” you growl, ready to throw the first punch, if you have to, “Don’t fucking look at them, you don’t deserve to!” 

As Shittykawa looks at you, his whole silhouette changes instantly from the furious loser to f - f - flirty, dirty one! You pale without a moment's notice. H - he is trying to seduce you, again! But why?! He has your name, so he can sue you, what else does he want?! You cling to Rin even more, confused, but not terrified. Not at all. Oh gosh, who are you kidding? He is strange, you don’t get him at all. He is starting to scare you. You hate this. You hate this so much.

“Puffy? Oh, [Name] - chan, you are so cute,” he giggles at you, now completely ignoring the twins, “Don’t feel shy, you can call me by my name. I don’t mind, don’t mind ~”

You are going to throw up. Then you are going to _kill_ him. And then, maybe you will cry a little and watch the history channel. 

Rin frowns as you attach yourself to his limb even more with desperation, hoping he will not even think about shaking you off. He is supposed to protect you, right? Atsu told him to! You raise your head, pleading silently. 

“Hey Puffy,” he deadpans, “Your chances with our manager are more dead than me, so can you shut up and leave her alone already? It’s pathetic to see.” 

At this, Oikawa blinks at Suna with confusion, looking nearly like a big-eyed fish. You bite down your lip, scared of this reaction even more. Is he going to attack? Go ahead, you can take him in the fight. Just. Keep your mouth shut.

There are several laughs at this remark coming from Puffy’s friends? Group? From Aoba Something, the team you defeated earlier. Gee, of course, you meet them. You want to go back to Kobe, right now. 

“Puffy Oikawa,” somebody calls and you turn your gaze to a boy with hair in the color of strawberry, “It fits!” 

“Puffykawa,” agrees the angry one you somewhat recognize, the one who saved you earlier, “He’s right. She’s not interested. Sit down, trash!” 

He kicks the legs of Shittykawa and the affronted party yelps but doesn’t fall. Rin uses that moment to drag you by your collar in the direction of twins, placing you directly behind Osamu. The said twin nods at him appreciatively, before taking your hand gently into his. You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. 

“Hey, Mattsun, Iwa - chan, on what side are you?!” 

“Not yours.” 

You manage to chuckle at this in the evilest possible. It has to sound fake, though, because Osa’s grasp on your hand becomes tighter. You squeeze his hand. 

“Get rekt, Puffy,” you say, avoiding his gaze, “Nobody likes you. Not even Waka - san.” 

Here. Your ultimate attack! Take this! Straight at your pride, right? No. It’s super ineffective. How does it not hurt him? That's hurtful. Super hurtful, because Waka is a really good person.

You blink at that, confused. He would be in front of you again, if Osa didn’t step forward, hiding you behind his broad back protectively. Normally, you would really don't like that, but you know, you can't stand Shittykawa. Just look at him. He even doesn’t care about the lethal glare of Osamu Miya, leaning to look straight at you. To be honest, that's a little bit unnerving, because your friend's gaze sent lesser men than him running.

If Atsumu is irritating and hurtful, Osamu is deadly. He doesn't hesitate and the only thing protecting Oikawa right now is the fact that both you and his twin seem to be not injured.

But yeah, back to Puffy, maybe speaking about your _maybe - future - you - mean - you - would - to - be - his - friend_ was not the best idea, because he loses focus on the Saviour aka Iwa, and returns it to you. His face makes you think of the betrayed puppy, but not like, cute puppy. He is not cute in any form.

“Waka -san?!” he waves his hands maniacally, “Wait, wait, wait! [Name] - chan you met Ushiwaka?! And you are calling him by his _name_?!”

 _Ushiwaka_? 

“Fuck off,” Osamu says politely, covering Shittykawa’s view of you, “I will break every bone in your body if you as much as _breathe_ in her direction again.” 

Oh. Oh. Oh. 

Fuck. He’s so angry, you feel his hands shaking. You can’t see his face, but you are pretty sure it stopped being pleasant years ago. You can nearly feel danger coming out of him. You glance at RinRin and he swiftly takes hold of Osa’s arm, trying to rein him in. 

“Hey, Samu, calm down, okay?” Atsumu comes to the rescue, trying to calm down his twin as always, “Let the big bro handle it.” 

Osamu doesn't move, but he seems to stop emitting the aura of utter destruction. You breathe out, relieved. Okay, SamSam is not going to _prison_ \- 

“Is your little brother afraid of little, old me?” Puffy doesn’t know when to stop talking, oh my go, “Not so tough, are you, lesser twin?” 

He is definitely going to prison. 

Doesn't Puffy not know when to stay quiet? Osamu seems to be downright bloodthirsty now. You cling to his back, resting your head on his shoulder's blade. It's okay, you try to say, It's okay, I'm safe, nobody is hurting me, you don't have to defend me, I'm not going back, I'm here.

“I’m trying to save your life, you yelping trash,” Atsumu growls, his protective instinct sparked, “But honestly, I start to think maybe breaking a bone or two will just teach you something.” 

Your pleas seem to fall on deaf ears. Of course, he chooses not to use telepathy the one time you need him to.

Meanwhile, Atsu and Puffy stare off at each other, as the rest of the Oikawa’s group wakes up from whatever daze they were under. Wonderful. Where is that _Iwa - chan_ to save you again? 

“What the heck are you starting, Oikawa?”

“Hey, hey, hey, are they serious?”

“Give it your best, O - Oikawa - senpai!” 

“Hey, Kindaichi, don’t encourage him! Oikawa, c’mon, just sit down, dude.” 

You bite your lip ever harder. Jesus. Why are you finding yourself in a situation like this? You have to intervene, probably. Before they get into trouble. Ugh. But you don’t want to be picked on. You try to pull your hand free, but Osamu’s grip is dead on. Oh, come on, you want to help him! You are going - 

“Enough of that!” the owner finally snaps, “I can’t listen to you anymore!” 

Oh. Shit. You weren’t fast enough, but at least the owner was. The tension in the air vaporizes as if touched by a magic wand. You blink. Osamu’s grasp slackens and he gently starts going to the door, Atsu and Rin after you. You know the drill.

It's familiar.

Very familiar. Are you in Kobe right now?

“Out. Of. My. Establishment!” he roars when Puffy’s group stiffens, “And never return!”

“Yessir!” 

And so, you leave the ramen shop before you can eat. What a waste. You are really hungry now, but at least nobody died and you don’t have to escape the country for now. 

“I can’t believe you got us banned out of our favorite restaurant, you brats!” the one called Iwa yells after you pitifully, “I will punch you both!” 

You three roll your eyes. 

“So moody.” 

“Oh, aren’t you arrogant for somebody who just lost?”

“You are lame, lame, lame.” 

Yes, you can't believe you named him your savior. He sucks.

“I can’t believe it, Iwa - chan is the one being teased,” comes Oikawa’s voice. You shiver, “Maybe those brats are not so bad after all?” 

“Yeah, I prefer when Shittykawa is the one.” 

“How could you, Mattsun?!” 

The four of you look at them, before deciding that you should probably disappear. Well, retreating is a valid tactic. You have to tug Osamu a little, and Atsumu drags him by his wrist for a bit, but you are finally free of Shittykawa. 

For now, that’s it.

Seriously, what’s his problem?! 

“Oi, oi, we got banned again,” Atsumu sighs as he rests his hands on his neck, “And we didn’t get to eat this time.”

“The food would probably have sucked anyway,” Osamu decides instantly, “That trash was there and he liked it after all. And the smell? The soup smelled so pungent and disgusting.”

“Trash,” you agree, ignoring his remarks about the soup that seemed heavily to you, “The trashiest.” 

“How long did it take this time?” RinRin questions, “Five minutes? Three?”

“ _One day, one ban_ challenge in Miyagi?” you propose mischievously to Suna, strategically placing yourself at his right side, hiding just a bit, “Hey, at least it was fun, right?”

Rin sighs at you, before giving you the gyoza he was able to steal from some table, most likely the one belonging to Puffykawa. You take them with a grin, not feeling even a bit guilty at all as the four of you start to walk back. 

Oh, you are so hungry. 

“Hey, Osa - chan, do you want one?”

“Hm? Yes, please,” he sighs, “I want to eat.”

“Let’s eat at the hotel,” Atsumu offers, a smirk on his face, “I have enough of Miyagi for this day.”

* * *

Anime: Osamu has grey/blue eyes

Me: I recognize that the Council has made a decision. But given that it’s a stupid-ass decision, I’ve elected to ignore it.

They both have amber/brown eyes here :3 

So yeah, this chapter. We have MC and Ushi bonding over their stupidity, Kita being a proud dad, Suna getting a little bit of spotlight, and surprise! More Oikawa bullying! 

I finally read the whole manga (was forcing myself, cuz I didn’t want to see Ina’s defeat. My poor boyos;-;). And. Bokuto’s hair being natural is the most surprising fact. I love those dorks so much, but I found myself frustrated at so many parts, ngl. Eh, what are you going to do? It’s not like I’m going to rewrite everything, right? 

Right?

Thank you for your feedback on Atsu’s Interlude! Floored with support, and tbh, I didn’t know how to answer so many words of praise? Haha, how do I interact with people, hey, google? Google, where are you going?!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well :) Thank you for reading!


	22. In which you refuse to go to the doctor (you have really good reasons for it, you swear).

You wake up entangled in the mess of human limbs. 

Okay, that makes you sound like a serial killer. You can’t help though, it’s the truth of your current situation. You yawn lazily. It’s hot in your little pile of bodies. Sleeping in the middle is always the worst and yet, somehow, you always end up being in this position, as if twins were afraid of showing affection to each other. They are not, though. They are not fooling anyone. You know their constant arguments and fights are a way to express their love through violence. Violence is always the answer, after all. So why do you always end between two human radiators? 

You groan. It’s not the most comfortable position, to be honest. Why do people generate so much heat anyway? Your quilt is laying on the floor abandoned, as you are swallowed by your friends’ boiling bodies. So, so hot. Gee. 

You are okay with just curling over in the corner of the bed. They are definitely _not_. Greedy bastards that they are, taking every available space for themselves. Atsu was always the one who liked to shove his body parts everywhere. He got better at this when you three were awake, but when he is asleep all of his good manners disappear even further. He is practically an antonym of the words _personal_ _space_. His leg number one is between your legs, while his leg number two is thrown around your thighs. And then are his arms stuffing you into his chest, which would be okay, if Osamu didn’t fight with him over dominance of your body. He was pulling your backward, his arms around your shoulders, his head atop of yours. And then his legs are on Atsumu. 

This is why sleeping with them is the worst, damn it. What is this motherfuckery? How do you even sleep like that? How do they? This placement is so ridiculously uncomfortable, your shoulder and neck are crying! How do you even get out of this? Why were you the one to wake up first? Groaning, you try to move a little, but your effort is quickly punished by the elder gods. 

You actually _scream_ from pain like the absolute bitch you are. 

One good thing: it startles demons awake. One bad thing: they move, sending you into the spiral of pain once more. You whine and hastily bring your hands to your neck, trying to protect it. Well, you are not a logical creature. You know your touch will do fuck all, but you this anyway, shielding your neck. 

“[Name],” Osamu is up in no time at all, untangling himself out of this mess by some sort of miracle. He is not dazed from sleep at all, being fully aware of everything as he sees you clutching your neck, “ Fuck, fuck, we should’ve gone to doctor.”

“W - what’s wrong,” mumbles Atsu incomprehensibly, being the total opposite of his twin, still asleep for the moment. It takes a second, but he raises as well, watching you with worry, “Are you in pain? Hey, sunshine? Can you talk?” 

“I’m fine,” you utter weakly, as you move your neck and, there it is, this awful, awful pain. You wince, “Was only being a dramatic bitch. Didn’t expect to hurt so much. Fuck.”

It’s a little bit better when you don’t move, you guess, but staying in one position all day is impossible even for people who are not supposed to manage a team. Okay, okay, maybe you’re not the best manager ever, but god knows you try. And your responsibilities can’t be always done by first years, no matter how much easier it would be. 

The problem is you don’t think you will be much help in the following days. Oww. Your neck, your shoulder, and - you fight the shiver - the right side of your stomach hurt so much. 

Ugh. The bruise on your stomach is visible even now, under your nightshirt. It looks even more atrocious than yesterday. You would think bruises would be yellow or purple. This one is a straight-up black circle of pain and regret. 

Osamu snarls when he sees it and you can’t fault him for the way his eyes narrow in fury. To distract him, you pathetically raise your hands in the air, wordlessly asking for help. He doesn’t wait to do so very gently, his mind conscious about not hurting you. It was only a stupid accident, gee. They take it way too seriously. 

Osa doesn’t seem to see that this way, though, as he refuses to let your hands go after you crawl up from a lying position. He looks at you seriously, playing a bit with your fingers. Huh. It's always funny to see how much larger his hands are compared to you. It makes you feel a little bit small and weak, and while normally you don’t like that feeling, you know Osamu and Atsumu would protect you even from speeding cars, the idiots they are.

“If I see him again, I’m going to punch him,” his tone is surprisingly gentle for somebody planning to assault another person and so you tap your finger at his thumb, a little bit irritated. 

Well, better to punch than to kill, you guess.

“He apologized,” you find yourself repeating once more. Osamu only huffs dismissively so you arch your eyebrows at him, “Seriously, lay off him. Cupcake didn’t mean that you know. That could be anyone.” 

“But it was him,” he tells you, “What would you do if it was me or Atsu?” 

Yeah, he got you here. There wouldn’t be a body to find for the police, no question about it. You avoid his gaze, a little bit embarrassed. Your moment of hesitance is used mercilessly by Atsumu, who doesn’t know a thing about manners and just lifts the hem of your shirt. You shriek, trying to free your hands from Osa to slap Atsu away. Sam’s hold is a little bit stronger, so you are forced to see the true awfulness of yesterday. 

You don’t even try to fight back the scowl forming on your face. Black skin goes nearly all the way to your armpit. Fuck. Blueberry cupcake is strong, you will give him that. Or maybe you are just really, really weak. 

The worst? Your face is probably not better, you think defeated. Your body is just one big cacophony of pain painted in gnarly glory as if you were the canvas. Only this canvas belongs to you. You have to live with it for the coming weeks. You will have to use bandaids, probably. Just not the alien ones. Those are evil and summon strange creatures upon you.

Or, you could go with foundation and corrector, maybe? 

“We’re going to the doctor,” decides the blond as he examines the bruise. Thank goodness he is not stupid enough to try and touch it, because you would be rolling in pain, “There’s no way we can just go practice with you like that.” 

You blink at him.

“I would take you much more seriously if there was no drool at your cheek.” 

His hand quickly comes to his cheek, but it is actually the wrong one. He has it on his left one, not the right, loser. You titter and he sends you an annoying glare, which only amuses you more. Osamu sighs at your childishness as he decides to be an adult. He leans forward to his twin, for the moment abandoning your hands, and wipes it. 

“Disgusting,” he tells his twin, before returning his attention to you, “You just screamed your lungs out, [Name]. It seems serious enough for me.” 

“You are the one who is disgusting, Samu,” complains the eldest of you three, cutting in before you can answer, “Just touching my saliva like that? Seriously, what is wrong with you?” 

“We’re brothers, you literally drooled all over me when we were little, fuck off.” 

“That’s even more disgusting, Samu!”

“I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Here we go again. 

You bite your lip, ignoring them. Neck injuries, neck injuries, huh. Okay, you are _the_ nerd, but that doesn’t mean you have all of the possible neck pains cataloged in your head. The most possible one is neck strain if you think that cause of this suffering is your yesterday’s close meet - up with the concrete. Nothing too serious, as long as it actually doesn’t stay. You don’t need a specialist to tell you that.

“We’re not going to the doctor, stop being so damn protective over little neck ache,” you interrupt as they try to kick each other, they are such children, “It’s something like neck strain or whatever. Nothing debilitating.” 

You are not afraid of going to doctors. Not at all. That’s not the problem. 

“Stop being such a baby, [Name],” Atsu takes one of your hands from his twin, “You are hurt, my sunshine,” his thumb gently caresses your skin, but his eyes are serious, ‘We’re going.” 

They are driving you up the wall. You shake your hands free of them, and they let go, maybe not wanting to annoy you any further. Crossing your arms, you slide off the bed, going to the door. They react instantly. 

“It can get worse!” 

“Just like everything in this world,” you answer, returning your gaze to them annoyed immensely, “Atsu - chan literally broke his leg in middle school and he still trained volleyball as if there was nothing wrong!” 

“Yes, but that’s Tsumu, he would train volleyball even in the hospital,” Osamu rolls his eyes, “He is a bad example.”

“I agree with Samu,” Atsu nods at him, “What if you have some sort of brain damage because of the fall?”

“I had one even before the fall.” 

They share a glance over you before Atsumu finally decides to use his triumph card. 

“[Name], I’m going to tell Kita.” 

Oho, he is going to dad? You know better than it, though. So, sorry, not sorry. That’s not going to work, buddy. With a dramatic huff, you stomp your foot on the ground. 

“I would totally believe you if you weren’t such a bitch,” you pull a face at him, “Now, go back to your room! I need to dress up and do all that girly shit.”

“You don’t actually do any girly stuff, sunshine,” Atsumu stands up lazily from the bed, “Who are you trying to convince anyway?

“Hey, I do make - up on occasion!” you pursue your lips with dismay, before flipping him off, “Go fuck yourself. And find a restaurant to eat while at that.” 

Osamu stretches lazily and then promptly plops back to bed, ignoring yours pleads. Of course, he does. Why are you acting surprised? You roll your eyes at him.

“She doesn’t need to use make - up, asshole,” he tries to redeem himself with words, but you are not so cheap, “She is the most beautiful girl even without one.”

“I never even thought she is not, Samu,” Atsumu sighs, irritated, “That’s not the problem!” 

“Just go,” you moan, pointing to the doors with your hands, “Leave me alone, demons.” 

“What if you disappear if we leave?” 

What does he think you are, a ninja? Well, you tried to be one but were never graceful or sneaky enough for that. You are a manipulator, damn it, meaning your Intelligence and Charisma stats to lie, plot, and destroy people behind the scenes. 

Or at least you hope to be one day. You are pretty sure you’re too damn naive now. 

“AtsuAtsu, stop being dramatic,” you tell him, being the total hypocrite, “I’m supposed to be snapped by Thanos or something? Maybe isekai-ed? Actually, if so, sing me the hell up.”

Maybe you would end in some cool anime world. Wait, knowing your luck, probably not, damn it.

Atsumu places his hands on your shoulders, causing you to meet his gaze (and shift your head’s position, jerk). He suddenly looks serious, a smile went gone from his face. You tilt your head, still ignoring the pain, doing it the whole time. 

“You disappeared _yesterday_ ,” he accuses, “We left you for a few minutes, and you were _gone_.” 

It feels like he wants to hit you to ham something in your head. Yeah, you kind of did, but it’s not like you were kidnapped or murdered. You just did something stupid - it’s what the three of you do. 

“I came back?” you try and well, that’s not a good answer, because they look sad? sadder? Fuck. You like it less and less.

“Badly hurt.”

It’s Osamu this time, making you grimace. It was yesterday. What is wrong with them? His tone is soft, nearly hurt in some strange way. It’s like if - Oh. Oh, they are worried. Of course, they are. They were not letting you go anywhere the previous night, for the moment leaving you thinking they will go in the tub with you. 

Fuck. 

You thought you were over this. 

“You overprotective idiots,” you whisper, “You are still worried about me?” 

You will never be over this. 

Do they really think you are so pitiful? Do you still hold them back? Can’t - can’t they let go, just for a moment? You need to calm them down. You need to - 

They will never trust you fully. Not even again. They will always be too afraid, too broken. They will see you and remember the vacant eyes, remember the hole your apartment turned into, remember cries that echoed night after night. 

You’re pathetic. 

It’s all your fault. 

“We are always worried about you. How can you not see it?” Atsumu questions before he chuckles in a broken manner, “You are so stupid and dense sometimes, sunshine.”

Guilt hits you at once and you close the distance between you and Atsumu, throwing your arms around his neck. He lets out a breath, surprised.

“Mmh,” you mumble, before turning to Osamu, “Okay, stand up, give me a hug,” he blinks at you from the bed, “C’mon, c’mon, little shit, we don’t have the whole day.”

He does so with reluctance, a little bit lazily, joining the impromptu hug, as he embraces both you and his brother. You exhale softly as you take in their warmth. It’s a little bit different this time. Rather than a scorching inferno, it's a light, fluffy feeling that makes you think of hot chocolate in the cold winter morning. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise them, “I can even pinky promise if you want me to.”

“Okay,” whispers Osamu into your hair, “You don’t have to. Just don’t go where we can’t follow.”

“That sounds awfully cliche, brother.”

“Shut up, Tsumu, you’re stupid.”

“Hey!”

“No fights in the group hug, boys, we’re having a moment!”

You stay like that for a while before you can let go of each other. Atsumu’s eyes are a little red, so you ruffle his hair, grinning teasingly before they are finally happy enough to leave you in your room for five seconds. 

You bite down your lip. Guilt. As if they are trying to pay off the debt, redeem themselves of the grievous sin. There is nothing to forgive. There never was. They can’t see it this way. Idiots. Overprotective idiots who want to take you to the doctor. Ugh. _Doctors_. 

You shove them out of your room after a while, actually wanting to make yourself presentable for the breakfast in the cafeteria. 

Dear Jesus Christ. Everything but the doctor. Don’t they have a match with Waka? And isn’t Waka like super - awesome spiker or something? Let them focus on him. Not on you. You are here only to watch and clap as they demolish the competition.

When you think about yesterday, you really can’t help but grimace. What a fun time, haha. Getting yourself nearly killed, then terrorizing blueberry cupcake and his teammates, only to be harassed by Puffy and finally, meeting Waka. Too much happened on the first day. 

Not even talking about this pain in the neck. A literal pain in the neck. You giggle to yourself as you open the doors of your bathroom. Well, you can go brush your teeth at least. This is good, [Name], think about positives. Only positives. 

Your life is nothing but a hole full of suffering. No, wait, scratch it, it’s not a normal hole. It’s fucking Mariana Trench of misery and heartache. You are going to take Rin’s offer after all. Maybe you can find a nice building in Sendai and just jump, or something. Or you can go to your bathroom and just drown yourself in the tub. Anything to escape this reality.

“You’re making a mummy out of me,” you whine, as you massage the bandage on your neck, “It’s going to be so embarrassing!” 

“Deal with it, sunshine,” smiles Atsu, “You know you are pretty just the way you are.”

“The prettiest,” agrees Osamu easily enough, “Huh, the coach is still not up?” he asks one of your teammates as you enter the cafeteria or rather the restaurant of your hotel. 

Calm down, [Name], no fucks given, how in the hell your school affords shit like that? You don’t know. You don’t care. Not in the slightest. So calm down. Calm down, calm down. You exhale a deep sigh as you take a seat next to Atsumu. The large table is full of food you can choose to scoop on your plate. Buffet just for you! 

“Huh, what’s wrong, Date?” Akagi leans in your direction, “Did you get hurt even more?” 

“No,” you whine in answer, avoiding his gaze, focusing to pick up one delicious looking omelet instead, “Twins are just being overprotective.” 

“What’s new then?” Gintama questions as he flops at the chair next to libero, “Teach is having a video-conversation with his dog, Osamu. Again.”

“What’s new then?” repeats Suna from his corner beside Atsumu, “He is always doing that if he’s not arguing with his wife over the fact she spends too much time with _Momo-chan_.” 

“Wait,” you wrinkle your nose in confusion, “They are both arguing over who has the right to see him? Like, as if the dog is their child?”

Rin nods at you tiredly, before pointily yawning. 

You pop your lips as you shift your attention to the food in front of you. And, yeah, you’re not going to complain about it. It’s luxurious as hell, and definitely not intended for high schoolers. You can forgive it this one time because you are pretty sure Gordon Ramsay cooked your omelet. Which means it will be nearly as good as Osamu’s.

“I’m pretty sure they got married just so they could look after it,” Akagi mentions cheerfully, “They love it way more than their kids anyway.” 

“Hey, I’m sure it’s not that, Michinari,” comes the voice of Ojiro, who enters the restaurant/canteen with Shinsuke in a row, “They love each other.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Aran,” Atsumu replies with a lazy smile, “Maybe one day it will become the truth.”

The team’s mom just shakes his head. They sit down across from you, taking a moment to acclimate to the new environment of utter foolishness and nastiness around you. Yes. You are totally cool with it. Your school is not a stupid rich school, haha, you don’t care. You don’t care at all. 

You definitely don’t have a mental breakdown, which Osamu uses to take a piece straight from your fork. He shows you a peace sign, bold fucker, sticking his tongue out after he chews your precious breakfast. You bump him playfully into the arm.

“[Name],” you hear Shinsuke trying to catch your attention, so you move your gaze to meet his brown eyes, “Why are you wearing bandages around your neck?” 

It’s your cosplay of Tutankhuman. The only missing feature is a birth defect akin to Habsburg’s jaw. 

“Atsu and Sam’s fault,” you tell him, sounding like a tired martyr you are in your heart, “They hate me, apparently.” 

You look at Osamu, little thief, pointedly. He dutifully scoops up part of his pancake and directs it directly to your mouth. Yum, so good. American breakfast is so good. Not that Japanese style is bad, but it’s good to sometimes try new things.

Meanwhile, Kita arches his brow at the twins and Atsumu comes hastily with an absolutely fake explanation. Fucker. 

“She was screaming from the pain the moment she woke up, captain,” he tells him, rubbing his neck, “What we were supposed to do?” 

Leave you alone to be in pain. Suffering like you are supposed to. Anything, but visiting the doctor. You roll your eyes at him, pointily munching on your food. At least it’s good. Not _the Osamu grade_ good, but good enough. 

“Take her to the doctor,” Shinsuke doesn’t hesitate, “We will do this after breakfast.” 

You nearly choke on your food, so the better twin helpfully pats you on the back. You don’t agree. You _so_ don’t agree.

“N - no, please,” you moan and repeat a little bit bolder as he looks at you, “Not in this life, Shinsuke.” 

Doctors are evil. Plain evil. And the stupid evil kind, not the cool, world-conquering evil like you. They eat the souls of the innocents and don’t even give contracts in exchange. So boring. 

Shinsuke looks at you carefully, actually trying to decipher what you feel. It’s not like you are Enigma Code, you are pretty easy to understand. You don’t want to go, because of emh - inconvenience, yeah, that one. You don’t want to inconvenience them! Totally. You fluster under his watchful gaze nevertheless.

“Are,” he starts and if it was not Shinsuke, you would call him a bit hesitant, “Are you afraid of doctors?”

Hahaha, who, you? Scared? No. 

No. 

Definitely no. 

You backtrack. Okay, maybe a little. Yeah, actually, yeah. A lot. Perhaps even more than you fear cockroaches or spiders. Doctors are scary, okay? The better question is, what sort of sociopath is not afraid of one?!

“No?” you more ask than answer him to the amusement of the rest of the table. Atsumu pats you on the head in a comforting manner, “No, who, me? No. No way.” 

“High five, bitch,” Rin raises his palm in the air, so you lean forward to bring your own hand to his, because, duh, you don’t ignore high fives with your friends, that’s against the bro code, “I’m afraid of doctors too. Used to sneak behind my parents’ back to the doors so many times.” 

Shinsuke furrows his eyebrows at Suna with irritation. 

“It is irresponsible behavior,” he chides him harshly and so Rin’s face becomes wan and he starts to slowly descend under the table, “I hope you don't do it anymore, Rintarou.”

That sounded like a threat. You swallow, feeling a little bit protective over your friend. Yeah, he was doing stupid shit, but who can blame him? Not you. You open your mouth to preserve his honor. 

“At least he didn’t steal vaccines from doctors like somebody I know.”

The table's attention instantly shifts to twins. Yeah, they did that. Three of you did that actually. You swear that at the moment it was the most brilliant idea ever. Who can get vaccinated if there are no vaccines? No needles, no pain, no problem. Genius. 

Osamu only shrugs, while Atsumu pinches your nose playfully.

“You’re talking as if you didn’t help, sunny,” he teases with a smile, “If I remember correctly, it was your idea in the first place.”

“You don’t remember correctly,“ you blink innocently at him, “I’m pretty sure I had nothing to do with this.” 

He pinches your nose again in the answer, and the interest in your shenanigans disappears as the table realizes nobody died that day. 

“[Name],” Shinsuke tries again, ignoring everything because he can, “I still think you should go.”

To doctor? No. Never. Even lord of Hell couldn’t make you. Shinsuke is way more persuasive than him, though, as his gaze actually guilt - trips you a little. 

“I don’t want to,” you bemoan your future, nearly letting your head fall at your plate. It’s now empty, so it would be so bad, but still, “Please, please, don’t make me.”

“[Name].”

Why is everybody so serious today? Like, you were just singing some stupid songs so many hours ago, being the children. Where is your _Here’s to never growing up_? Now, you all talk like adults and try to be mature. You groan as you lift your head to meet his gaze (you ignore the pain yet again because letting it out right now would be a bad idea). 

“I know you’re worried, but I really, really don’t think I have to,” you address not only Shinsuke, but the twins and the rest of the team as well, “Yeah, I have some bruises,” you admit a little bit unwillingly, but you make sure to look as confident you can when you continue, “It’s nothing serious, though. I hit my head, but I didn’t lose consciousness. I was dazed for a bit, but I’m pretty sure we can count out a concussion. I believe I have a neck strain, which is a bitch, but I can deal with it,” 

Here, that sounds rational enough, you hope. You look over the whole table and wait a moment. You grumble in annoyance when they stay quiet, just looking at you, not believing a word you uttered. Little shits. 

“I will go to the doctor, if it doesn’t lessen,” you finally give up, “But only, only, then! No sooner! Okay?!” 

You demonstrate how mature you are, you slam your palm at the table. So dramatic. So adult-alike! So definitely not childish. You are not having a tantrum, god damn it. You pout a little.

You just don’t do doctors. At all. 

“I will trust your judgment,” Shinsuke nods finally to your relief, “But don’t disregard your health for the team. I will make sure you don’t have to do anything in the coming days.”

What wonderful music to your tired ears. But, the problem is? Is he truthful? He said he doesn’t lie, and you trust that to be true. Problem is, you know how overprotective your boys can be. 

He will not cave to their demands, right? You have to make sure he is sincere and not just being kind to stab you in the back like Brutus. You dig your own grave, [Name] because he will change his will the moment you ask.

“W - wait, is that okay?” you question, “Like, I’m a manager or something, like? I have responsibilities or whatever.” 

You did it anyway, damn it. 

“Of course it’s okay,” he nods before anyone can butt in with criticism, “We don’t want you to hurt yourself even further.” 

Oh. You feel all of the worries disappear quicker than U - Bot under the sea. Of course, he would be dirty enough to use it as it. He is not like twins, after all. You feel happiness bubble under your skin. 

“Thank you, Shinsuke,” you beam at him, “That’s super nice of you. I really appreciate it!”

“Aah, yeah, of course.” 

He quickly turns his gaze away from you to your shock. Did you fuck something or - Oh. His ears are a little bit red. He is such a sweetheart, is he not? Under his robot persona, there is Shinsuke who can’t take compliments at all. 

“Whipped,” whispers Ojiro as he pats his friend. He says more, but you cannot exactly hear the words. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Aran,” comes Shinsuke's strained voice, “I’m not whipped for anybody.” 

You tilt your head in confusion at them.

“Whipped cream?” 

The team groans. Huh? You look at them, completely dumb-founded. What’s wrong? Why is nobody telling you anything? Is this some sort of grand joke you are not at? It’s outrageous. It’s unfair. You want to know! You need to know. Whipped cream, after all, is very delicious. Are they hiding it from you? 

“Don’t you worry your pretty head over it, sunshine,” Atsumu pats your head lightly, “Do you want me to hand you something? Your plate is empty.”

It is. It shouldn’t be. It should be full of sweetness, of whipped cream’s goodness. Yum, now you are craving something sweet. And those jerks are hiding it away from you. 

“Huh, I would like whipped cream.”

Nobody reacts. Fuck. 

“Yeah, I know,” Osamu agrees with you, nodding furiously, “It’s just so fluffy. Eating it you feel like you are laying on the clouds. Sweet, but not too sweet. Ideal with chocolate.” 

“And strawberries!” 

The two of you imagine the said treat, but your daydreams are quickly crushed with Shinsuke’s voice.

“We’re eating breakfast, not dessert, Osamu, [Name].” 

“Oh, someone rebooted you, captain.”

“I'm a human being. There’s no way to reboot me.”

You pout, disappointed, before looking at Atsumu and pointing at eggs and bacon nearby. He hums as he hands it to you. The table is in comfortable, sleepy silence, one problem as you eat. So nice. So sweet. So wholesome! And so boring. 

“Bored,” you say as you munch on your breakfast, “So, what’s everybody’s favorite color?”

Two problems were taken care of. You will learn about people and end this stupid silence at once. Your genius is sometimes frightening. 

“Huh, what’s with this random question, sunny?” you point your fork with a piece of bacon at Atsu, but he waves you off, deciding to continue instead of eating like normal people, “You know mine and Samu’s.”

“I am actually trying to get my other teammates better,” you mutter, feeding the food to Osamu. He is not as picky as Atsumu, he never was, “Like a good manager does.” 

“You will never be a good manager, Date.” 

“Fuck off, Gintama.”

“Black,” comes the deadpan voice of Rin, “Just like my soul.”

“Nobody expected anything else from you, Rin,” Osamu reads your thoughts, “Hm, mine is white like rice. Wait, no, actually green like nori...Or maybe salmon pink…” 

“I know about yours, Osa - chan,” you tell him dismissively, patting his cheek, “Shinsuke, Ojiro - senpai, Omimimi - senpai? What about you, Gintama. Wait, I don’t care about you, you sexist pig. Hey, Akagi - senpai, Kosaku?”

“I’m not sexist, damn it,” Gintama growls at you, “I just didn’t think a first-year can help a second year! It has nothing with your gender!” 

Yeah, yeah, you totally don’t believe it. 

“Okay, sexist pig,” you arch your eyebrows at the same time as Rin opens his mouth from below the table. 

“That sounds like something sexist pig would say.” 

Rin raises his palm from his hideout and you lean once more to exchange high fives as Gintama groans. 

“I hate you both,” he informs you, before scowling, “Are you going to ignore others?” 

You bat your eyes innocently at him. 

“What others?”

The rest of the team sigh. 

“I don’t care about others,” Atsumu shrugs at the groans, “Scrubs. But are you going to ignore me as well, sunny? I’m hurt.” 

“Your favorite is yellow,” you say not phased in the least, “As one from a Mikasa ball. It’s why your hair is blond.” 

You roll your eyes. He is such a dork sometimes. 

“That’s so cliche, Atsumu,” RinRin attacks him, throwing a curled up napkin as he leans from below the table, “You’re such a volleyball nerd.” 

“Shut up, jerk,” Atsu blushes as he avoids the attack, before taking his napkin and hurling it on Rin, “As if your answer was any better.”

“It was, though,” Atsu’s napkin hits Rin straight into the nose, but the lazy bean doesn’t care at all, “Black is the most beautiful color ever.” 

“I’m going to spike into your face,” threatens Atsu, “Break your nose and dreams.” 

“I don’t have dreams that are not broken, though.”

“Hey, hey, no fighting over breakfast!” Ojiro instantly stands up, confiscating napkins from the boys, “You are going to create such a mess for the staff!” 

You giggle at this. 

“Granny always said I look good with red,” Shinsuke ignores the chaos around him, “So I’m going with red. It is also the color of our jackets after all.” 

Oh. You coo, bringing your hands to your face, as you stare at him with total admiration. That was so cute, you cannot help it truly. Shinsuke Kita is just so precious. Your team doesn’t deserve him at all. 

“That’s so sweet!” you tell him, “So, so cute, Shinsuke.” 

“Yeah, I think I’m going to throw up,” Rin whispers, “Since when Kita feels so human-like?” 

Robo - dads have feelings too, RinRin. You stick your tongue out at him, before shifting your focus to Shinsuke again. He looks regal as always, gracefully eating his breakfast. _King of Inarizaki._

You smile at him. 

“I think she is totally right, Shinsuke,” you nod as if you were an old sage proclaiming ancient wisdom, “On the other side I think you would look good in anything.” 

Shinsuke stops. Ojiro’s words are stuffed in his mouth, as he looks at you. Gintama and Akagi’s jokes never get told. Even Osamu doesn’t eat for the whole minute as they look at you in silence. There is a profound silence. 

“Huh? D - did I say something wrong?” you tilt your head in confusion, “T - that’s the truth, you know, I - I’m not lying.” 

Atsumu leans forward to look at the captain of the volleyball team. 

“I think the captain just died.” 

“What?!” 

* * *

RIP Kita Shinsuke, cause of death: simping ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

There comes Day 2 in Miyagi! It is not as dramatic as day 1, but I hope you liked it anyway. More of twins and team bonding over stupid conversations, lol. And of course, I'm writing about food. Maybe this fic is not a thinly versed excuse to bully Oikawa, but a thinly versed excuse to be hungry.

Welp, hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, stay safe, and have a wonderful day <3


	23. In which Atsumu acts like a trash (and you all love him anyway).

The Sendai Gym didn’t change at all from yesterday. You didn’t expect it, and still, you feel disappointed. Nothing fun ever happens in Miyagi, huh? No fires, no earthquakes, not even one nuclear war sparked. Boring. 

You should be grateful, you suppose. You didn’t get attacked on the way. You didn’t meet Puffy again. You know, it's as if Miyagi decided to give you a break, which was nice. Boring, but nice. Why are all nice things boring? You sigh.

Atsumu, on the contrary to you and Sam's mood, looks like a child in a toy shop anyway when you enter. He abandons both you and Osamu without any hesitance, going straight to first years who strolled in bins with balls. Sam doesn’t even raise his eyebrows, too familiar with this behavior, instead choosing to move to the benches near the court. You follow him, ignoring Atsumu. It's not like you would be able to deter him from doing something stupid anyway.

You plant yourself on the bench under the watchful gaze of Osamu, who instead of joining you, places your bags on the ground. What a responsible person! Good person. Not like Atsumu, who is in the middle of his bullying routine.

“Hey, little scrubs,” he goes after first years, throwing his arms around them in a fake friendly manner, “How about you start working, ball boys?” 

“O - of course, Miya - senpai,” the stutter comes from Rizekai, “We a - are - “ 

“The net will not be hung up with words alone,” he pats them on backs, “Get on it.” 

Ah, the infamous net. That one you didn’t destroy, right. No one ever tried to talk about it with you, which probably meant the school took care of it. Or will take care of it. You hope. 

Poor Rizekai and Harusomething nod their heads in silent fear and run, probably to get the poor madame net up. Atsu smiles at this, while your nearby teammates - Akagi and Gintama, that's it - look at the display absolutely tired. Not even Momjiro or Kita reacts to it. Osamu deadpans as he watches his twin terrorizing children. You yawn.

“He is such trash,” he tells you, sounding exhausted. You know better than take him at the face value, though. His lips are ever so slightly arching up, as he observes his twin. You smile at this, peering at the blond with tender affection. 

Yes, he is. He absolutely is. And he is your trash. 

“You love him,” you accuse him playfully as you raise your hand in his direction, “You love your older brother, Sam - chan.” 

His mouth turns down immediately. 

“No,” he disagrees calmly as he reaches for your palm, “Never. Don’t ever joke about it, darling.”

“You do!” you laugh at his stubbornness. Your hands join, and you interlace your fingers together, “You love him so much.” 

He groans, using his second hand to facepalm. 

“I would sell him to Satan for one corn chip,” he tells you, “No, wait, I would actually have to pay a person to get rid of him.”

“Probably,” you agree easily and he pouts at you like a little kid.

How adorable of him. But yeah, yeah, you know the feeling. It's hard to admit that you love somebody so toxic and demanding. And straight - up trashy. And yet, here you are. Deciding to not prolong his suffering any further, you tug on his hand, and obediently comes to join you at the bench. You lean at him, continuing your conversation.

“Think about how much you would gain from this, OsaOsa.” 

“The peace of the mind,” he admits easily enough, “Finally, after so many years.”

“You both are such jerks.”

If Atsumu’s comment was supposed to bother you, it totally didn’t work. In contrast, the two of you smile at his approaching figure without the slightest hint of shame on your faces. 

“Wow, somebody would think it’s genetics,” interjects Rin, as he falls next to you. Literally just falls to the bench. You are nearly concerned with his well being, but he just lifts his head and you have to roll your eyes at his dramatics, “All Miyas are evil, thus saith the Lord.” 

At this, you exchange gazes with Osamu and flash him peace signs at the same time. He groans. 

“You are not cute. Not at all. Just evil, oozing with it.”

“Not Osamu,” agrees Atsumu, as he shrugs. Osamu only flips him out, “But our [Name] - chan is the cutest, RinRin. Just look at her.”

Please don’t. Being called cute is a little bit traumatic, you will not lie. Brown, mocha eyes instantly pop into your head and you frown. Ugh. You will never escape from him. His image will haunt you forever. You cannot help it. To be poetic, humans are always intimidated by things they can’t understand. And there is no way in hell you are even close to comprehending Puffy. You don’t even want to. You don’t appreciate Atsumu mentioning the _c-word_. It should be illegal or at least, highly offensive to call somebody that. 

So yeah, you furrow your brows, wishing Atsu was just a little tad closer so you could kick him. Osamu, reading your thoughts, hands you the closest item. Bottle of water, huh. That will do. You let go of his hand, as you swing the bottle wildly in the direction of blond. He automatically tries to dodge the bullet that never comes.

You giggle uncontrollably. 

“Cute? I see only pure evil,” Rin taps his finger in your shoulder, making you somehow tittering even more.

You don’t even know why. It just. He tapped your shoulder. He tapped your shoulder. That’s amusing to your mind in some strange, unexplainable manner. 

“You cannot be evil if you aren’t looking cute,” Atsumu chuckles at you with all fondness in this world, “Just look at her.”

“D- don’t call me cute,” you stutter, trying to calm your fit of silliness, “I - I’m not!”

“Cutie,” Osamu pinches your nose teasingly, and as you start to vehemently shake your head, ignoring the pain coming from your neck. He repeats himself, “The cutest.”

“No!” you squeal, scared, and flustered at the same time, “No, no, no!” 

His lips twitch before he strokes your cheek gently, carefully avoiding your bruises. His eyes are warm and so you can’t help the light-hearted giggle that escapes you. Spending time with your friends is the best. Even when they are dumb and tease you way too much. 

“She even made Kita malfunction,” Atsumu hums lightly, “Her cuteness is just so powerful.”

No! No more! You take everything nice you thought back, as you give up. You can’t take it anymore. Whining, you hide your rose-colored cheeks in Osamu’s neck. You envelop him with your arms, practically choking greyhead. Osamu pats your back, deciding to not struggle towards his incoming doom. 

“Error in his database,” Rin is ruthless, not caring for your embarrassment at all, “And I thought it was all in my mind.”

“Maybe it is?” Osamu murmurs philosophically and you thicken your hold over him. It’s not like it helps much, because he continues, “I still can’t believe Kita - san is human.”

“He is not. There is simply no way, Samu. Our little sunshine just caused a bug or glitch that got patched with her utter adorableness.”

“So, Atsumu decided to move to Egypt,” you hear Rin, “His future house is just next to the Nile.” 

You raise your head then and release Osamu from your hold. He just shakes his head at you, showing you his disappointed face that is normally reserved only for his brother. You ignore him. 

“Shinsuke didn’t have a bug or anything like that, idiots,” you sulk at them, tapping your foot on the ground, “He can’t take compliments, that's all. Poor him.” 

This is not something you expected of him, but no matter how fast you two became friends - the truth is, you don’t know him so well, which is petty. Well, at least you know his favorite color now. You can learn more about him - and your other friends, your other teammates - slowly, one fact after another. 

That’s how it works, right? You don’t attack people with questions and note their answers diligently. You think. You wince a bit to yourself. That’s the problem. You don’t know. You know Osamu and Atsumu’s preferences by heart, not even thinking much of it. Sam was always pretty forward to what he liked, but Atsumu. Ugh. Atsumu was so annoying. Okay, he is still annoying, but now you know how to deal with him. 

He used to be a little shit. At the beginning of your relationship, he used to lie about what he liked to laugh at you when you got facts about him wrong. It didn’t last for long, as Osa was at your side and simply corrected Atsu’s every lie. Get rekt, little Tsu. No such bullshit on your brother’s watch. 

“I’m going to tell her.”

Huh? Tell somebody what? You blink your eyes, as Rin’s voice shooks you from your daze.

“Don’t you dare.” 

What are they talking about? You wrinkle your nose, releasing your hold over Osamu, as you evaluate both RinRin and AtsuAtsu. While Rin maintains his poker face, Atsu smiles in such a fake way that you would have to be stupid to not see it. 

“Tell me what?” you turn to Osamu, knowing he is probably the only one kind enough to explain what the fuck are they talking about, “I was out of here for a while, sorry. What happened?”

“Don’t worry about them, you little airhead,” he hums in answer, patting your hair, “Don’t you want some snacks? We can go to the vending machine.” 

“The last time I went, I met Shittykawa there,” you arch your eyebrow, not keen on experiencing his company again. Yeah, you really wouldn’t mind if you never saw him again. Knowing your luck, it's impossible, though. He will haunt you until he finally makes SamSam so angry that he is killed.

“I will go with you this time,” he promises you with a mischievous glint in his eye, “And punch his puffy face.” 

Only punch? Yeah, yeah, who is he trying to lie to?

That sounds tempting, though. If only you could go around and punch (or kill) people you don’t like without any problem. A lot of bad things could be avoided that way. But on the other hand, you are pretty sure there would be a line for Atsu and Osa. Maybe they deserve one, but you don’t want a bunch of strangers to hit them.

Would mind if you kicked Puffy’s ass. Like, his friends didn’t seem to like him much, so maybe no? You have to ask around - so, yeah, not going to happen, dude. There is no way you will just go and question people. Dear Sir or Madam, do you have a problem with me kicking the stupid face of Oikawa Tooru? No, yes, maybe? Thank you for your time.

“You just want to punch somebody, Samu,” Atsumu drawls his twin’s nickname on his tongue, “You are so aggressive, little brother.” 

“Better being aggressive than being stupid, older brother.” 

“Ha? Are you calling me stupid?” 

“Yes, I am, you dumbass.” 

“Hey now, Samu - kun, it sounds like you want to start a fight.”

“And who is aggressive one now?”

They engage in the epic battle of stares that is fastly resorted by yours truly. You just stand up, jab your finger on the side of Atsu’s stomach, and when he leans in pain, you come back to your seat. As you do so, you are welcomed by both Osamu and Rin leaving their palms hanging, waiting for high - fives. You clap their hands at the same time before matching grins at their face. 

Osamu’s grin is the familiar, mischievous one. But Rin, actually abandoning his bitch face? That’s. Well. That’s new. He looks somehow younger like that, a little bit more carefree. It is a nice look for him. He should do this more when he is not being busy suffering. 

And as you stand, just enjoying each other's presence, you are brought back to reality. Not by Atsu, who is probably rolling his eyes at the three of you and whispering rude comments under his breath. No, this time it is somebody different. 

“Troublemakers and Kita!” comes the coach's voice, “Come here for the moment! It’s time for the strategy meeting!” 

Strategy meeting? Huh, are you going to war? Are you starting war?! N - nuclear war? Oh Cthulhu, you were not ready! Osamu sighs at your visible excitement 

“Volleyball strategy meeting,” he explains, patting your head. 

“Oh.”

 _Disappointed._ So, so disappointed you swear some Jedi in a galaxy far, far away, felt the disturbance in the Force. Volleyball strategy meeting. 

Wait. 

You smile. Yesterday there was no such meeting, which means today's match is different. Maybe you will not take part in nuclear warfare but in normal warfare! You have a war meeting after all. A little bit sad that the person you want to befriend will be caught in this as well, but well. You know the Miya twins and the rest of Inarizaki’s team longer. You will remember him, though.

“Strategy meeting at the benches, please,” whines Rin, “If I have to stand up I swear I’m going to die.” 

That’s a little out of character for him. 

“Don’t you want to die, tho?” you tilt your head at him, and ow. Ow. Ow. Stupid neck.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point, [Name].”

Then what’s the point then? People are so confusing sometimes. You massage your neck with a pout etched on your face.

You wait for a few minutes for the team. Okay, not a few. It’s more like, minute or two? But eventually, you are joined by other members. Even Atsumu stopped being pathetic and decided to come to your side. He did it by glaring at Kosaku, who sat next to Osamu. He couldn’t have it, of course, the jealous and petty person he is, and so your fellow Naruto fan had to evacuate. 

“Bitch,” comments Osamu on his twin behavior. You bob your head in agreement. 

“You can’t live without us,” you add, smiling a little.

Atsumu, being the absolute child, sticks tongue out and pulls his eye out. 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he smiles at you two suggestively. Yeah, hard pass, "Being with me forever? I will think about gracing your boring lives with my presence."

“Not really, feel free to fuck off from my life anytime, Tsumu.”

“No, you can’t cook.”

“Jerks.”

Coach Kurosu clears his throat, and the three of you give him your undivided attention. Okay, not undivided. You and Miya twins can’t focus on something for longer than three seconds. 

One. 

Two. 

_Three_ \- 

“So, how was your talk with Momo, coach?” 

Kurosu Norimune probably has to use all of his willpower not to facepalm at Atsumu’s cocky smile. You can’t help, but admire him a little bit for it. You know you wouldn’t even bother to try to hide how done you are with his stupidity.

“Way better than the one with you to be sure.” 

Yeah, you should have expected that, Atsu. You shrug at him, but he is undeterred by this dismissive reply of the coach. His smile only widens, and he elbows Osamu, launching him into this stupid conversation. 

“Why didn’t you invite us then, Kurosu - sensei?” 

“We love spending with you, after all,” Atsumu nods seriously, his face matching Atsu’s. Well, they can’t have so much fun without you! 

“That’s right, Kurosu - sensei,” you try to look as innocent as possible, even blinking in the most adorable manner you can. 

Kurosu doesn’t answer, just loses all of his hope, and hangs his head in utter disappointment.

“I regret ever thinking about choosing this career,” coach Oomi smiles pleasantly, “I regret ever being born on this planet. Just because I met you.” 

“That’s so kind of you to say, sensei,” Atsumu fake swoons at his words, “Praise us more.” 

“He’s not complimenting you!” Ojiro scolds him, but yeah, there’s no way to stop you like that. He should have known better. 

“No, no, it’s a compliment for his trash personality,” instantly defends his twin Osamu, “Let him enjoy it.”

Atsumu scowls at that, before starting a fight by poking Osa in the check. Sam of course retaliates, and then - well, they are suddenly grabbing each other’s shirt and engaging in a glaring contest. Yeah, you are glad to not sit between them. 

“What a mood,” comes Rin’s answer who decides to ignore twins, as he should, “Let’s drink to that, sensei.”

“If we both are alive when you can legally drink, then yes, let’s,” Oomi is still smiling and you can’t help, but sweatdrop at this a bit. 

“Bo - ring, Oomi - sensei!” Atsu jeers at him, dropping Osa’s shirt and their fight at the whim, “You should offer to buy us a bottle of sake right now!”

“I’m not going to deal with any of you drunk. I have a problem with dealing with you sober. Drunk? There is not enough money in this world to even make me consider the idea.” 

“Lame, coach,” SamSam joins the taunt, probably bored already.

At this, Kurosu finally comes back from his stupor. 

“We’re here to discuss strategy, kids.” 

Strategy! Finally, something you can talk about. You nearly jump in excitement at that. Clapping your hands excitedly, you bring attention to the whole gym to yourself, which is a little nerve-wracking. Just a little bit. No, a lot. Really. You exchange stares with twins before you close your eyes. 

The sentences come easy for you. It’s always been easy, studying, learning, improving. The knowledge just stayed here, you know? Maybe because you found it so fascinating, so intriguing. 

And you are also the nerd, can’t forget this one. Thanks, Tsu. 

“ _If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles,_ ” you recite without hesitation, “ _If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle._ ”

“That’s _Art of War_ , for you stupid people,” Atsumu brags, but all of his bravadoes disappear under Shinsuke’s scrutinous glare, “And for Kita - san.” 

“Sun Tzu,” adds Osamu. Oh, you trained them well. Which makes you question how Atsumu still somehow fails his history tests. 

“So,” you cross your legs and lean forward, placing your hands on your knee, “Who is our enemy?” 

“Shiratorizawa, duh.” 

“So, we’re going to destroy them and their school, right?”

“Yes.”

“Osamu, no!” Ojiro shakes his head, as he raises his hands, trying to stop you, “Date - san, that’s not the kind of match we are having.”

That’s even more disappointing. Like, you don’t get war, you don’t get to destroy the school, you don’t get to annihilate people’s morale, what is there to be happy about? At least you will meet Waka. You twirl the strands of your hair around your finger.

“Awww,” you moan, “I got all pumped up for nothing.” 

“I don’t think it is for nothing,” Kita nods at you, “While it’s only a practice match, our opponent is different than before. We won against Shiratorizawa before, but we don’t know much about their current strength. Ushijima is now in his third year. Don’t underestimate him.” 

The people who totally planned to do it turn their heads away in embarrassment, avoiding everybody judging gazes. 

“We?” Atsumu tries to salvage the situation, “Who are you looking at, captain? Underestimate the Ushijima Wakatoshi? Never, you know us.” 

“I see you doing it,” comments Gintama. 

“Yeah,” come nods of the other members of the team to Atsumu’s ire. 

“Hey, jerks!” 

He nearly stands up, but Osamu is faster. He takes hold of his twin’s arm and pulls him down, not letting him start shit. Which is probably good for Kurosu’s sanity. He will need to call his dog again, you think idly. 

“So, what are we going to do with Ushijima?” he asks. 

It takes a few moments to get the team into the strategic mood, but the change is visible at the first glance. They all look much more serious, as they seem to wonder about said question. Ushijima is Ushiyama, right? So Waka. Huh. You could buy him a lot of teddy bears, or something? Or murder? Murder is always a good way to answer. 

“His spike is powerful, but not unstoppable,” Omimimi opens his mouth to your surprise, “We can deal with it targeting him during serves as we did before.” 

He plays the same position as Rin, right? You steal a glance at your friend, who is looking to be concentrating as if thinking about Waka’s situation with intensity. Which is something you didn’t expect of him. Like, you saw him play yesterday, but even then he had this some sort of lazy energy around him. He didn’t seem to try, not until Shinsuke played that is. You don’t think he was as sharp back then as now. He looks so _calculating_. 

He likes volleyball, after all. It makes you think of Atsumu and Osamu, who always seemed to be different people on the court. 

“Yeah, I’m thinking about making him direct his spikes at Akagi with our blocks,” Rin finally nods, “We will not score like that, but it’s hard to score on Ushiwaka's spikes anyway.” 

Ushiwaka? Ushiyama and Waka, huh? It may work nicely. That nickname is sort of cute. 

“Receiving Ushiwaka’s spikes?” Akagi wonders about it, before taking a drink from his bottle, “I totally can try to dig them, but I can’t guarantee how well,” he peers at Atsumu, waiting for his reaction. 

“Scrub,” blond reacts predictably, going for insults. Akagi is unbothered by this in the slightest, “Who do you think you are talking to? It doesn’t matter how well you do this. Just keep the ball in the air. I will take care of the rest,” he snickers as he points at Osa, “Not sure about Samu.” 

He is promptly kicked out of the bench. You laugh, just like most of the team. Not Kita, of course, who just looks so done. 

“Not all of us are so dumb about volleyball like you, you volleyball trash. Why are you trying to act all cool?!"

“Who are you calling trash, you trash?! And I'm cool! Always! I'm always cool!” 

Akagi laughs at that, as he leans to Gintama to whisper something. The Enemy of All Women only shakes his head with something you could call a fond grin.

“I’m more concerned with the Monster,” Rin ignores twins again, returning to the subject at hand and demanding your attention, “Can’t manipulate him like others. He is just. Ugh. So random. Disgusting. I hate him. Hey, boss bitch, do you want to go at him?” 

_Boss bitch_ is way better than _head bitch_. You nod, humming in wonder. You can totally use some techniques you read about, depending on what they need. Murder, incapacitation, torture? Or the most heinous of them all, making him listen to bad music?

“Which one?”

“Of course, you don't know. The redhead from yesterday.”

The redhead from yesterday. The one next to Waka and Rude Cheesecake? Huh. Cupid, right, right, right! Yeah, no way. Nope, you’re out, they are on their own this time.

“No, no, no,” you wrinkle your nose, “You don’t fuck with people who matchmake others, RinRin.” 

“I will not grace it with any comment.” 

You poke your tongue out at him, but your action is ignored. 

“Rintarou,” Shinsuke cuts in, voice cold and commanding, “Don’t try to use [Name] to intimidate our opponents.”

Rin blinks his light eyes. Once. Twice. Thrice. He turns to you very carefully, very slowly, thinking deeply about something. Yeah, you have no idea why he is so surprised at you. He was the one who started it. Of course, he is the one getting scolded.

“Yessir,” he answers lazily, but his hand is on his chin as if he is thinking about something very deeply.

“Good. Don’t listen to everything they say, [Name].”

Wait, you too? Not fair. You pout your lips, bowing your head a little. You didn't do anything wrong. Maybe. You probably did something wrong. Eh, anyway, who cares? Atsu doesn't. He only shifts from his position, finally abandoning his fight with Osamu. He was defeated or something like that, but refuses to acknowledge it, you suppose. Idiot. Your precious idiot.

“Did you play against their setter? The one they subbed in during the Spring Tournament?” he asks, his tone a little bit more serious, "Shirabu Kenjiro is his name, I think."

What does he mean by saying he thinks? You are pretty sure he studied all of his opponents at nights following the trip announced. He most likely knows them all better than their parents at this point. His dedication to winning knows no limits.

“No,” Kita shakes his head, “We played Semi Eita, the one who was here with Ushijima yesterday.”

“So he’s completely unknown to us?” wonders Akagi, “That’s going to suck.”

Atsumu snorts at that. There is something really convincing about the way he carries himself. There always was.

“Not really," he hums, as he explains, "I looked at his performance during the Spring Tournament. He was quite average at best.” 

“ _Average_ is good for a first year’s national debut," disagrees with his statement Ojiro, "He can be much better when he plays in the background he knows well.”

“The words of the loser, not winner, Aran!” Atsumu smiles. It is not a nice smile at all and you are nearly feeling pity for the said setter, “Let’s target him.” 

Target him. Like, in the assassination? You are listening. That sounds fun. The proposition makes everybody look at him, waiting for him to explain more. He tsk - tsks as if the point he was making should be oblivious. Well, it was not.

Atsumu stands up and moves carefully towards the center of your little group. He puts his hand in front of himself. As his words ring around the gym, he clasps his palm into a fist. It feels like a challenge. But not for you, not for your team, not for the person who can see it right now.

“It’s easy, you know, to shake people’s faith in their skill.”

He places his hands on his hips, his lips curled in a smile that would look innocent and gentle on somebody else's face. At Atsumu’s face, you can only call it vicious.

How ominous. How dangerous. How dramatic.

You fight back the fond smile that threatens him to form on your face. OsaOsa, you find, doesn't try to hide his. Cautiously, you peer at the rest of your teammates. Huh. They don’t exactly look like his team from Yako Middle School, silently seething, furious, following the words they don't believe in. Suna is just tired, you are pretty sure, and Shinsuke doesn’t care about it. The rest of them, though? Look so _done_. But nobody objects. Nobody tries to argue.

They believe in him, in the way, you come to understand. In his skills. In him. They have confidence he will deliver. They have confidence that his plan, no matter how cruel, is the right one. That's - that's good. You would hate if those people you came to care about (mostly Shinsuke and Rin, let's be honest, Akagi is cool, Momjiro is the coolest, Gintama is okay no matter how much you will never tell him, and the rest... the rest is here. You like them, but didn't spend enough time with them to die for them you guess), didn't care about one of the most important people in your life. And they care. God, they care.

They care about him in the way that his old team could never. They let him be dramatic. They let him be trash. They let him be himself.

“You have such an awful personality, Tsumu,” Osa teases him, mostly out of habit. You giggle.

“Hey, you’re part of my master plan,” blond points at the greyhead with his hand, mock - insulted, “You better pull your weight in!” 

“Me?” oh, no, Osamu would stand up as well were it not for you, wouldn’t he? You lean into his shoulder more, and he pats your hair, “You should be the one listening to your own advice. You’re such an asshole, nothing can save you.”

“Are you complimenting me now?” 

“I’m going to compliment you with my fist.” 

“Master plan, Atsumu?” Aran interrupts him, raising his hands to stop violence from happening, “We don’t know what you are talking about.”

It's a good thing, probably. Who would want to know or understand what he is on about? Only his twin. You look at that person, and well. Osamu shakes his head in dismay, exactly as if he does just that. You blink at him in silent question, and he only pats your cheek tenderly. Nothing important then. 

“I’m not doubting I’m better than him. And I would bet my money Osamu is better as well,” Atsumu stretches his hand, still with his trademark asshole smile, “It’s one thing to see that the opposing team has a good setter. It’s different to feel like you’re a worse setter than their wing spiker. We want him to stumble, to make mistakes. Not even Ushijima can save every atrocious toss.” 

All of this planning is very exciting. Yeah, you don’t understand exactly what they are about, but in some way, their strategy talk is not so different from psychological texts and mangas you read. Apply pressure to the weakest point to destroy your enemy - it’s easy to say, but what if you don’t know your enemy well?

_If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat._

You wish you knew the enemy. You wish you watched the matches and could be able to help your team somehow. Not with the plays of course. What can you teach those experienced volleyball players from the school called powerhouse? Yeah, nothing, _but_. But. The idea comes to you. You don’t know a lot about volleyball, but if you were able to somehow study players and pass that knowledge? The biggest problem with it is if other people played instead, but…

You bite your lip. There is always but.

“You didn’t go out like that yesterday at all,” you muter to Osamu in an unasked question. He nods. 

“That’s because Puffy and their little team were not at the national level. Practice matches my ass, the only real opponent for us right now in Miyagi is Shiratorizawa.” 

Are they? You need to know more. You need to - 

_If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat._

You don’t want Atsu and Sam to lose. Never. You wish they could only win, win time and again. That's a nice dream. Naive dream. 

Sun Tzu died about two thousand five hundred years ago, but his words ring true not only in warfare. It is somehow humbling, but also thrilling. So, so, thrilling. Your heart beats loudly in your chest, as an electric pulse stirs through your body. You wish you could sing right now. Song of neverending strife, of people, long lost, but who survived in memories and their ideas. It’s just so cool to see it. To think Sun Tzu is still alive, helping you.

Maybe. Maybe you can try. 

On your tip - tops. Carefully, slowly. 

“I’m so sad I have to agree with him,” Suna moans, “From what we saw Date Tech and Wakutan are even worse than Seijoh. Date Tech feels like a cheap copy of Kamomedai.” 

You beam at this.

“I hear words, but don’t understand them at all.” 

“We didn’t expect you to.” 

Shinsuke glares at that person before you can even think of an appropriate retort. Or before twins can react. That’s pretty damn impressive if you think about it. 

“Hitoshi, start doing receiving drills.”

“Huh? W - why?” 

Kita raises his eyebrows.

“Did I stutter?”

* * *

More Inarizaki bonding! More Suna bonding! More twins~ And ho - ho, Kita's simping ways raise questions! How long will he be able to stay hidden before his teammates understand he is a human being? Had little problem writing this chapter, even tho there is no much stuff happening. Just days like those, chapters like those, I guess ~

Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading :D


	24. In which no human is harmed (your pocky sticks, though, you poor pocky sticks).

**_Inarizaki High Volleyball Team_** **@ IVBT**

_Second day at the Sendai Gym! And no deaths! But it was a close call yesterday. Not thanks to the certain setter._

_[A photo of Atsumu and Osamu Miya on the center court of the Sendai Gym. They are both in mid-jump, the ball suspended in the air between the two. In the background you can see more members of the Inarizaki volleyball team: Shinsuke Kita, Aran Ojiro, and Ren Omimi, talking calmly. In the left corner of the photo there is Rintarou Suna, flashing a peace sign to the camera with another hand whose owner is out of the camera's sight.]_

**_529632_** _LIKES_ ** _33345_** _RETWEETS_

**_AlienHunter69_ @ oikawatooruofficial**

_[Name] - chan’s hand (♡ε ♡) And she even talks about me!_

**_Schopenhauer was right_ @ deadinside**

_Creepykawa_

**_Oikawa is trash_ @ iwaizumi**

Trashykawa

**_Officially possessing all of MatsuMatsu’s shirts @_ makkiroll**

Shittykawa

**_If you want to find me, just call MakiMaki_ @ matsuroll**

_P u f f y k a w a_

**_AlienHunter69_ @ oikawatooruofficial**

_WHY ARE YOU ALL AGREEING WITH THAT LITTLE GREMLIN_

 ** _Schopenhauer was right_ ** **@ deadinside**

_alexa this is so sad play despacito_

**_AlienHunter69_ @ oikawatooruofficial**

_(ノ°▽°)ノ︵┻━┻_

**_I will sell my kidney to ticket to Sendai_ ** **@ hoshihoshi**

_What is the best time and why is this Inarizaki?_

**_I will sell my kidney for ticket to Sendai_ @ nakanakami**

_*team_

**_How do I get to Sendai in one hour? @_ shippingcorner**

_You can edit your tweets dramatic bitch_

**_I will sell my kidney for ticket to Sendai_ @ nakanakami**

_i know i just dont care you hoe_

**_✿✿✿✿✿_ @ pandagirls**

_Big bro looks so cool! :D_

**_Schopenhauer was right_ @ deadinside**

_who let you children on this hellish site im calling your mom_

**_✿✿✿✿✿_ @ pandagirls**

_no, dont! Big bro we miss you D:_

**_Schopenhauer was right_ @ deadinside**

_seen at 14:36_

**_Hoothoothoot @_ theace**

_why dont we have twitter it LOOKS FUN @ fatheroftheowls_

**_PinoPinoIsTheBest_** **@ yukippe**

_no._

**_Fukurodani’s setter_ @ fatheroftheowls**

_This is why._

**_Hoothoothoot @_ theace**

_DDDD:_

**_KitaNoOneElse @_ oworichin**

_We were graced by Our Lord's presence, my disciples._

**_LetKitaPlay2k @_ sakuramochi**

_I want to thank the world for creating Kita Shinsuke. We are truly #blessed._

**_Ina High Go! @_ YukioKirigakure**

_I can’t believe ChiChi won’t let me go see the matches QWQ_

**_Chizuru Hattori @_ hattochi**

_Don’t use your phone for your personal interests during work time, President._

**_Ina High Go! @_ YukioKirigakure**

_You are so cruel, ChiChi!_

Yeah, you hate social media. You hate it _so_ much. What is this shit? Why are so many people engrossed with volleyball anyway? Sighing deeply, you put your phone done. The _only_ duty you are allowed to do right now is done. Not like you are going to complain, of course. It’s nice to sit and do nothing while others have to pretend to work. Okay, not all of them are pretending. There are some good, responsible people, like Momjiro and Shinsuke, who actually _do_ train like they are supposed to do.

“How did you even answer Puffy so fast, RinRin?” you tip your head in his direction.

Not all people are like Kita or Ojiro.

“I never let go of my phone. It’s my treasure,” Rintarou drawls the words, not even looking from the screen, “ _Treasure_.” 

You chuckle at that, finally taking your mind from this - _this disaster_. You really should be used to the bizarre life that the volleyball team gifted you. But it's hard, okay? Not only Inarizaki is obsessed with your team. The whole of Japan seems to be, damn it. 

“What are you, Gollum?” you ask him, ignoring your conundrum. It’s not like you are going to solve it. What are you supposed to do? Pout at the problem until it goes away? Yeah, it’s better to talk. 

“Treasure!” Rin says in his the best impression of said character. It’s not good, nothing like the _Precious_ from the _Lord of the Rings_ films, but you have to cover your mouth as you start to giggle again anyway. 

In the background, Osamu throws the ball at his brother’s head. Akagi laughs at that, as he launches himself at the floor, digging the said ball into the air again.

“Nice receive!” Gintama cries, “Hey, Atsumu, set for me!” 

“You better hit it into Samu!” 

Atsumu moves under the flying missile, bringing his hands ahead of his head as if he was not just hit. He catches it and tosses it to Gintama in a matter of seconds. Does Gintama try to go after Osamu? Actually, yeah. He spikes it into his direction, but the younger twin just simply receives it to the groans of the disappointment of Atsumu. 

“You suck, Samu!” he jeers, taking another ball from the floor and hurling it towards his twin.

“Lame, Tsumu!” comes Sam's answer as he dodges, "You can't hit me, loser!"

They get along so well. You tap your foot on the floor, before shifting attention to your companion, who is still practicing, in theory, that's it. Technically, his little break is illegal, but nobody says anything - not Momjiro, not Shinsuke, and not coaches.

Poor Kurosu and Oomi. They look like they need to drink something much, much stronger.

“I’m hungry,” you complain, knowing Rin will probably not escape from your nagging. It would involve moving, after all. 

“We had lunch half an hour ago,” yup, he doesn’t even lift his head from his phone again, lethargic and dead inside.

You had lunch, and boy, what a nice lunch it was. Yum, yum, you are even hungrier now that you remember the soft, yet crispy texture of the chicken you were served. Even Osamu couldn’t say a bad word about it. He stole half of his twin’s meal and poor AtsuAtsu, he can never say no to Sam’s grabby hands and his puppy eyes, no matter how much he tries. 

“It was exactly thirty-seven minutes, RinRin. I’m _hungry_ ,” you exhale, trying to be patient, as you ogle longingly to your friends on the court, “SamSam was supposed to take me to the vending machine, but he is - “ 

You move your hand in the general direction of Osamu, trying to communicate you are not sure what he is trying to achieve. Probably he is currently murdering his brother. Fratricide, woohoo. 

“Busy,” you decide finally, peering up to twins, who were supposed to train. Supposed to, all right. Instead, they are half - fighting, half - playing some sort of bizarre volleyball game with Akagi and Gintama.

They never do what they are supposed to do, after all.

“I can go with you if you are afraid of Shittykawa.” 

You open your mouth in little _o_. Whut, dear sir? Are you turning deaf? Did Suna Rintarou offer to go somewhere with you? Out of his free will, nonetheless? Oh, gods. This is so friendship goals. Friends. Totally friends, dear Lord, your heart is racing so much. 

You bite down on your lip, as you practically feel stars twirling in your eyes. You’re so happy you can’t even know what to say, so you just look at him, trying to communicate it without words.

Rin groans.

“Ugh, stop being so damn adorable,” he pokes your forehead with two of his fingers in the same fashion Itachi did to Sasuke. You bite even harder on your lip, trying not to squeal, “I crave jelly fruit sticks.”

“Tsundere!” you accuse, pointing your finger at him, smiling widely, “I could just pick them up for you.”

“You would get the wrong brand,” he shakes his head. What a poor excuse!

“Brand in vending machines?” you say cheekily, clapping your hands.

“Okay, I’m tsundere, whatever," he deadpans.

You laugh at that as you stand up from the bench. You stretch your hands, as if you did something very strenuous, not only sit and sit for several hours. Rin yawns, so you turn to him, offering your hand in good faith. Friends do things like that, right? Helping each other up? 

“Let’s go, then!” you shout, “Let’s go, go, go!” 

“Where is this energy coming from?” he sighs and yet, takes your hand nonetheless. You try to hoist him up, but he goes to his feet on his own, your hand nothing more than decoration, “Seriously, where?” 

Is that a pity? Or is he playing nice by not leaning on your support? Well, you will take it nonetheless. At least he didn’t wince in disgust as he came with the contact with your skin.

You stand on the balls of your feet, bringing your palm above your eyes in an exaggerated manner looking for the exit. 

“Here!” you point up, dramatically to the doors, “Aye, aye, dear friend, our journey begins with those doors.”

“Wonderful,” there is sarcasm in his voice. He reaches for the bench for his jacket and slides it on his shoulders, trying to at least hide his sports clothes. He then moves and you follow, humming softly. 

You are so giddy, you can’t help the light tune that spills from your throat. It doesn’t even contain the words, you would feel bad to call this a song. It is not. But it helps you, a little bit and doesn’t seem to bother Rin, who just nods at you. The nerves in your stomach are more akin to butterflies than knives. They are just excitedly spinning around your body, making you want to hop your way to the vending machine. 

“Rintarou, [Name], where are you going?”

There is something magical about Shinsuke’s voice. Like, he doesn’t raise it at all. He doesn’t shout. The thing is? When he talks, everything around just quietens, disappears, bowing before him. As his voice reaches you, both you and Rin look at him, giving him full attention.

And then you realize he asked you a question. You are not able to answer him fast enough, as you feel yourself being tugged into somebody’s arms. Atsumu places his chin on your shoulder, looking at the Rin. 

“Sunshine?” his voice is calm enough, but there is that damned smile on his face, as he questions, “Is RinRin kidnapping you?” 

_RinRin_ is said with such a strange timbre. As if he was trying to use his name as an insult. You roll your eyes. 

“No, you fool,” you pinch his nose, how kind of him to be so close so you can do it, “We’re going snacking. Just me and my pal, RinRin. Want me to bring you something?”

“Please don’t call me your pal ever again,” murmurs Rin, looking at Atsumu with a dead expression, “Atsumu, your definition of kidnapping needs redefining.” 

“Oh, how kind of RinRin to go somewhere of his very own will,” he nods, “Let’s all go together then. We can talk about our _friendship_ , because we are all _friends_ , right?”

What is he plotting? You snort and lightly elbow him. He released you respectfully, so you take a step away, as you question him teasingly. 

“Since when I’m friends with you?” 

“You’re hurting me, sunny,” he places his hand on his chest dramatically leaning on one side, “Lead on, then, Rin-chan, if you don’t mind.” 

“You are so gross, twin number two, of course, I mind,” he deadpans, “Come then. Suffer with us as we embark on the quest for jelly fruit sticks.”

“And pocky!” you hastily interject, waving your index finger, “Matcha pocky.” 

“And matcha pocky,” he adds obediently, nodding a little, before coming to stop.

Kita is still here, and he is not happy with your little friends. He glares at them, promising them not - so - quick death, if they move a step further. 

“There is practice happening which is why you won’t go anywhere,” he simply informs them about the coming future. They visibly pale at that. 

Oh. _Oh no._ Goodbye, snacks, you hardly have known them, but you can actually see them in your mind, just getting further out and out of your reach. They are strangely laughing and smiling at you, and waving sticky hands at you as they run. 

Osamu, who was listening to the whole thing just like most of the team, softly tries to butt in, by putting his hand on your shoulder. 

“Then how about me?“

“You are going to practice as well, Osamu.”

_Denied._

Your happiness becomes ash on your tongue. You raise your thumb to your bottom lip and you have to fight every cell in your body, as it demands you to start biting on your nail. It's a bad habit, the one you thought you eradicated years ago. Oh, what anxiety does to people. 

Should you? Will he be mad? Well. 

He is your friend, right? 

“B - but,” you stammer, and his brown eyes find yours immediately. There is no hostility in them, you know, but it is hard to tell it to your beating heart, “ I - I can - “ 

He leans to you, stepping closer as if he doesn’t hear what you say. It doesn’t help you. At his closer proximity, you feel even more nervous and anxious, and you are starting to redden. 

“[Name] doesn’t want to go alone, captain.”

The one who comes to your rescue is Rin, to your surprise. And the surprise of everybody else. You swear there is soft noise of the ball hitting the floor, as everybody in the gym just shuts their systems off. And yes, that's an awful metaphor, because you are not programs on computers, but human beings. And still, this is how it feels anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” you stutter to him, “I - I just want snacks, I should’ve gone for them earlier, but I didn’t think about it, and - I don’t want to meet Puffykawa by accident, so Rin proposed to go with me and - I’m so, so sorry.” 

You are rambling now. Wonderful. Your hand comes down from your chin in defeat as you lower your head, wanting nothing more than to hide somewhere. Or just become one with the floor. Fuck, at this point you will even become one with ceiling or something. Everything, but just to stand here. 

“That’s fine.”

Huh? You lift your head and feel your neck screaming in protest. You bite your lip again, this time not to whimper, as you look at Shinsuke with confusion.

“I understand,” he tells you nearly gently, “The two of you can go.” 

Your snacks? _Sir. Dear Sir. I owe you my life._

“Thank you!”

You beam at him, nearly jumping up in excitement. Snacks, snacks, snacks~! And with Rin, Osamu, Atsumu, it’s nearly a party! Maybe Shinsuke can come with you as well? 

“It’s - it’s - it’s fine,” the said boy utters, covering his face with his elbow, “C - come back safely.”

“Let’s go then!” Atsumu smiles, offering you his arm. You nearly take it, but you stop as Shinsuke opens his mouth. 

“Not you Atsumu, Osamu,” Kita’s voice is harsher than a moment ago, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you two playing around instead of practicing.” 

Oh. Sucks to be them, then. It's a party for two. 

“What?” Atsumu shouts, “That’s not fair, captain! How come? You can’t trust Rin with [Name]’s safety! You can’t even trust him with his own safety, captain!” 

“Okay then,” Osamu yawns, his total opposite, “If something happens to [Name], I’m going to hunt you down, Rin.”

“Yes, yes, whatever demons,” Suna dismissively waves his hand, “Come on, before he changes his mind, [Name].” 

“I don’t change my mind so quickly, Rintarou.” 

“Of course, captain.”

You swear there is a mischievous glint in Rin’s eyes as you leave the gym. You can’t help and think you did miss something. What? You don’t know. You just missed that. 

“Are we going to prank them?” you question, clasping your hands behind your back. When he arches his brow on you, you supply obediently, “You look just like you won the lottery.” 

“In a strange way, I got something better.” 

“Are you talking about jelly fruit sticks?” you wonder aloud, finger on your mouth.

“Who knows?” he grins at you. Huh, he reminds you a bit of a rogue from a video game with his black hair, “Maybe it is something different?” 

You snicker a bit. His words, his mannerism, It’s easy to talk with Rin. Not like with Waka, though. You don’t understand him, not truly, but. Well. It’s like knowing the good answer in an otome game, you guess. 

“300 IQ play?” you lean a little to the side, ignoring your shoulder aching.

“300 IQ play,” he nods at you, offering you his fist. You bump it with your own, smiling the entire time. 

The two of you move after that, maneuvering through crowds. Wow, a lot of people are here already. Don't they start a match in like an hour or two? What are they doing here already? Like, don’t those people have a life? Work? School? Responsibilities? Seriously, why are they here -? Wait, wait, wait. You stop in your tracks.

Is that Kizuchi? Sara Kizuchi, your friend? What is she doing here? No, impossible. She had a practice match with a school in Hyogo. You blink. She is gone. Wow. You have missed her enough to hallucinate her! Need to call or message her.

“Hey, no stops, miss lazy,” you sweatdrop at this, how hypocritical of him to call _you_ that, “We’re going to hell together.” 

“Oh,” you arch your eyebrow at him, “Are we on _the highway to hell_ ? _No stop signs, speed limit? Nobody's gonna slow us down_?” 

“Nah, we will drive safely. Not going over the speed limit,” he shrugs, as he starts your grand search of the vending machine yet again, “Any other questions?” 

“Boring,” you mutter as you follow after him, avoiding other people the best you can, “You have siblings?” 

That thing actually didn’t escape your keen eye. Threatening to call somebody’s mom? On social media? And the person responding in fear? Yeah, something was a little suspicious. And you, and your detective mind, come to a simple conclusion: it is his family member! 

He groans at this, confirming your theory. 

“Saw those brats on Twitter?” he sighs, thrusting his hands into pockets, “Yeah, we share DNA unfortunately.”

“Sisters? Brothers? Cousins?” 

“Younger sister and cousins. My cousins are twins. I truly cannot escape this cycle of pain.”

Twins? You wince in sympathy. Twins are a handful and you feel pretty confident about it because you’re something of an expert on this topic. 

You peer at Suna with the corner of your eye. He is tall. Okay, everyone is tall for you, yeah, but, you feel like he is a little bit taller than twins. Or maybe it’s Maybelline - gee, you mean his hair, his hair! It’s not black, to your immense displeasure. It's a very dark hue of brown, making it nearly black, tricking all of the people around him. You cannot truly identify the color of his eyes as well. They are lightly brown? Maybe grey? Or yellow? You don’t really know. _The thing is_ \- 

He looks nothing like your brother. 

“Never thought you would be an older brother.” 

Which makes sense, of course. He is not related to you, to your parents, how could he look like your brother? 

“I don’t look like one. I don’t feel like one. And yet, I’m one. The world hates me.”

His personality is different as well. It’s not _cutting_. It’s definitely sharp. He has a dark sense of humor, you think, or is self - deprecating and needs to see a specialist. But he is also kind. He caught you yesterday. He gave you muffins. He talked with you. He didn’t insult you. He didn’t even laugh at you. 

He became a friend to a lonely girl, even though he didn’t want to. 

“Not like that, you know,” you finally decide to tell him, "You look way too cool to be an older sibling.” 

Huh. Something red glimmers on his checks. Before you can look at him clearly, he hastens his pace. 

“What is this supposed to mean?” he asks in complete deadpan, “Did I unlock your traumatic backstory?” 

You snicker at this. 

“Maybe.” 

Yeah, you hallucinate a lot today. Maybe there was something in that chicken you ate? No way that Rin would blush at your words, after all. 

No way in hell. 

Where did those people hide vending machines anyway? Like, aren’t they supposed to be in easily accessible places in order to generate money? So. Where are they? You can’t remember where you found the one for yesterday - not that you would want to go for this one. 

Ugh, Puffy. 

You blink as you suddenly feel Rin’s touch on your wrist. Whoa, whoa, whoa, that’s - that’s not something you expected. That’s - that’s way too fast! Like, bumping fist or high - fives, or poking - wait. You did a lot of touches with Rin, huh? So embarrassing. You turn your head to him. 

He is not looking at you, only gesturing with his other hand towards the hidden vending machine. 

“Here is it,” he proclaims dramatically, “Our lord and savior.” 

He leads you in that direction. His moves are, well, very careful, calculated. And graceful. Much more graceful than yours, as you stumble after him, trying not to bump into a stranger. That would be awkward as fuck. 

“So, how are we supposed to take all of this back to the gym?” he gazes at the machine considerately, “It looks so heavy.” 

You stifle a giggle. 

“Do you have a baseball bat to shatter the glass or something?”

“I like the way you think,” he nods, as he steps closer to it, “So, what are you getting?”

“Pocky, pocky, pocky!” you demand, “Matcha, banana, mango, and oreo. Oh, and strawberry for Atsu.” 

“What about Osamu?” 

“Banana and mango are his,” you explain calmly, “What about you?”

“Jelly sticks. How do people cope with existential emptiness without them?”

“Maybe they don’t feel it?” 

“Sounds fake, but okay.”

You hum, as he starts to buy things. You consider joining him, before deciding it’s too much work, as a familiar scream reaches your ears. 

“Where are going, you idiot?!” 

Where did you hear it before? Huh. You don’t remember. Nothing too important then. 

“Oh, Kageyama, look it’s Date - san!”

 _Who the fuck_? You are busy! Busy! Get the hell out, Miyagi, you are trying to buy snacks and eat. You grimace, but reverse your position, turning around slightly nonetheless. And you blink your eyes, before smiling at the people before you. Wow, a surprise, for sure, but a welcome one. 

“Hi, Blueberry, Carrot,” you wave at them slightly, “Hi, hi.”

Wait, aren’t you too friendly with people who caused your neck to hurt and body to be bruised? You can nearly feel Osamu and Atsumu's anger at this, but you can’t help it. That yogurt was pretty good. 

Carrot Cake stops in his tracks, smiling at you and waving back. Blueberry Cupcake’s irritated expression instantly disappears. 

“Hello, Date - san,” Blueberry bows to you a little. Huh. What a polite person. When was the last time you saw proper Japanese manners? Maybe in elementary school. 

“Whomst the fuck.” 

Yeah, same, Rin, but you are a little too late. He doesn’t seem to be too particularly interested in your new guests, for the lack of a better word, as he just clicks buttons on the machine, buying snacks. Oh, he is going for a lot of them… 

“You’re the teammate of the Emperor!” 

Carrot Cake is so loud you can’t help it, you grimace visibly. He points up at Rin, who is now crouching before the vending machine, waiting for snacks to fall. They do it in a really dramatic, slow manner. Oh god. Snacks in vending machines are like Atsumu. 

“What.”

“The Emperor?” you ask bewildered. Is Rin a friend of the current Japanese emperor? Do you not know anything? 

Wait. 

Carrot Cake called _Rin_ a teammate of the emperor. 

Huh. 

You are pretty sure there is no Japanese emperor on your team. You're the manager, you know these things. Or at least you are supposed to know these things. Which means, he nicknamed one member of the volleyball team as _the Emperor_? That's a cool nickname, a better one than Princess at least, but really, why people are so hyped about royalty? Do they know what sort of disgusting things those people did? 

He stutters at your confusion and reddens visibly, not being able to answer. The _audacity_. Oh, did you make him uncomfortable? Well, shit, he shouldn’t speak such nonsense if he can’t take criticism. 

“He means Miya Atsumu,” Cupcake answers calmly in his stead. 

You feel something breaking in you. Miya Atsumu. You know Miya Atsumu, but him, the Emperor? No. No way. Right? 

“Atsu - chan,” you look at Blueberry, “That Miya Atsumu? From Inarizaki? My childhood friend?” 

Cupcake nods, his eyes brimming with curiosity. 

You sniff, not sure how to react. You consider it very carefully. Maybe too carefully. The idea is just so, so wrong at so many levels. Atsu. _Your_ Atsu. Your Atsumu Miya being the Emperor. He would be so, so awful as ruler of the nation. Like, you are pretty sure he would just play volleyball all the time, and make other people play with him rather than rule the nation.

Like, the world is full of awful emperors, you know. Incompetent emperors? Take your pick from every corner of this world. Caligula, let’s say. The Roman Emperor rumored to appoint his horse as consul and who supposedly made a brothel out of the palace. Not to say anything about feeding his subjects to the beasts. 

Then you have cool emperors. Like Napoleon. You love Napoleon. But, you are also very biased towards him. You can’t help it - Napoleon is cool, damn it. Even if he was a tyrant. So, maybe like Mutsuhito, your very own, Japanese emperor. He modernized Japan to the point he is synonymous with the era he ruled, Meiji. 

Do any of them sound like your cocky friend? Yeah, no. If you were supposed to give him any sort of nickname you would go for a warlord akin to Nobunaga Oda. Oh! _Demon King of Sixth Heaven_ would probably suit him much better. He is a demon. The demon. And Carrot cake has things for royalty. Just change _the Sixth Heaven_ to _Sixth Court_ or something. 

Your eyes have to be clouded because Rin sighs tiredly and decides to be helpful.

“Don’t you ever call him that in his face,” he supplies, his voice grave, “Never. His ego is big enough already.” 

Yeah, yeah, he is right. Tsu can’t ever know. You shudder when you think how he would react. Carrot Cake doesn’t seem to understand the ramification of his words, though, as he looks straight at Rin and _screams_.

Somebody, please turn down his volume. 

“The middle blocker!” 

The middle blocker is a position in volleyball, you know this. It’s easy to remember, because he is in the middle, duh. The blocking part is a little confusing, but you will work at that. 

He points to your friend, and yeah, he is your team’s middle blocker, just like Omimimimi. He looks all surprised and excited at the same time. Maybe even a little bit scared. Huh, being scared of RinRin? That’s strange. Like, he doesn’t like Naruto, but there is nothing else off-putting about him. 

Rin looks to Cupcake. Then to Carrot. Then to you. His face could be only described as _Are you fucking kidding me?_ meme template. 

“This is a punishment for my sins. I need my bleach bottle,” he exclaims, sighing dramatically, as he comes from the crouch and hands your pocky packs to you, “What is this thing?”

You disregard his question, now too interested in your snacks. Matcha, oreo, banana, mango, strawberry. He got them all! Smiling, you pocket them into Osamu’s jacket you wear. 

“A-are you talking about me?” Suna ignores poor Carrot Cake’s question, taking a step closer to you, “But wait, that doesn’t matter! You were very good at the match with Grand King!” he rambles at the speed of light, “Oh, I'm a middle blocker too, but I will become the ace in future!” 

“Learn how to receive before claiming you will become the ace,” Cupcake cuts in before you or Rin can even understand what his companion was trying to say. 

“Hey, Kageyama - kun! You are rude!” 

“But that’s the truth.” 

You both continue to observe the argument (?) in astonishment. How do you react to people being so confident, loud, and bright? It was not in your _How To Human 101_. He makes you think of Nishinoya if Nishinoya was not full of kindness, niceness, and everything good. 

“It is so happy,” Rin conspiratorially whispers to you, “How can people be so happy? Stop. Suffer like the rest of us.”

Maybe his exclamation would be much more world-shattering if Carrot didn’t have fewer brain cells than twins. He stops his clash with Cupcake, to look at you. That’s bad. You should run, probably. 

“Suffer? Are you hurt?” Carrot Cake blinks at Rin with his big, anime-like, brown eyes.

And Osamu calls _you_ dense. 

“Yes, by your brightness,” Rin spells out words slowly as if he was talking to a child. Yeah, you made the same mistake at first too, he is just so short. Still taller than you, though, “Ugh. I can’t. I need sunglasses. Too much happiness and colors. You make me think of that one guy, but like, in color,” he hides one of his hands in the pocket with the rest of the snacks, “Like, what was his name? He was from that one school with birds.”

“Karasuno’s Little Giant?!” Carrot Cake changes his emotions faster than Osa eats, wow. Now he is brimming with excitement, as he bounces on his legs, “Did you meet him?! Did you play against him?!”

“You dolt, he is too young to play against him.” Cupcake is moody too, wow, he goes from perfectly polite boy to angery one as slaps the back of the smaller boy, “He is only a year older than us.” 

And how does he know that? Is he a stalker? What. No. He is too nice to be a stalker. Oh god. He got you. The first rule of the serial killers! You nearly forgot! They are not some beasts, they are people like all of you. 

You focus your gaze on him, trying to evaluate him in the manner of seconds. He meets your eyes head-on as if you challenged him to a fight. Does he want to punch you? You can tell him that you bite back, if he thinks you will not because he gave you that yogurt, he is in for a nice surprise. 

But his eyes reposition suddenly to your neck. Huh? What’s wrong?

“I know, Kageyama, you idiot!“ Carrot screams again. Jesus, really, turn it down, people start to look at you!

“No,” Rin agrees mercilessly, causing the younger boy’s face to instantly drop, “Not like normal birds. Sea birds. Hey, what do you call sea birds, you nerd?” 

“Seagulls?” you tilt your head, and for the moment, you forget that your neck is a bitch. 

A soft whimper comes from your mouth and you quickly raise your hands to massage your bandaged neck. You are such a wimp. Just fucking ignore it, [Name]. This is nothing! You lived through toothache from hell itself. You can take anything. Probably.

“Yeah, Kamome - Kamomedai. There was this very loud, excitable, small thing that bounced a lot,” your friend throws one of his jellies in his mouth, “He was their pitch server. Blocked that bitch. I wish I could block people in real life. Hey, google -”

“You’re hurt?” Cupcake interrupts him rudely. Rin struggles to maintain his poker face at this insult, “What happened to your neck?” 

Oh, so this is why your epic duel was interrupted? Quoting OsaOsa: _Lame_ . Or. Or. You peer at him a little more intently. Is he _worried_? 

“Ah, that?” you tap your neck gently, “That’s just Atsu and Osa being overdramatic. Don’t worry about it. Maybe just don’t look them in the eye.” 

“Overdramatic?” Rin rolls his eyes, “Okay, Ms. I Screamed My Throat Out.” 

“If you weren’t my friend,” you proclaim comically, “I would kick you.” 

Cupcake doesn’t even look away from you. That’s - that’s scary. Where is your emotional support friend or his twin? Your fight - or - flee response is kicking in, and there’s nobody to hide behind. Wait, Rin. You look at him, begging him with your eyes to become your shield.

The bitch doesn’t move, only observes you sharply, leaving you to the mercy of blue eyes. They are pretty, okay? Very pretty. But not when they look at you so fiercely. They make you think - they make you think of -

_(The words echoing around the room. A smile rose on the girl’s face. Hand in your hair as she yanks you down, down, down - )_

“Screamed?” he questions and you feel your heart jumping out of your chest.

Oh, merciless Cthulhu. 

You can’t take it. You fluster under his gaze. You don’t like attention. You don’t, you don’t, you don’t. You need to get out of here. Both him and Carrot are looking at you strangely serious, making you think of ravenous birds waiting to eat their prey. _You_ are their prey. 

You need to escape now. 

“Neck strain,” you tell him hastily, bouncing a little bit nervously on your legs, “You are an athlete, you know how it is,” you giggle, trying to play it off. 

You don’t think you can deceive them, as Blueberry looks at you with even more anger. What are you doing wrong? What?! You feel like you are about to cry. You look nervously around, and then you feel fingers on your wrist again. Rin takes a step forward, hiding you partly, just like Osamu used to do. Oh, thank god. You finally have a line of defense. 

“So, what’s your problem anyway?” he deadpans at them, “Are you Russian spies sent there to destroy us by glaring and shouting? You are too late. We are already dead inside.” 

Blueberry doesn’t say anything. That’s scary, haha. Ha. 

“Yeah, yeah, he’s right, don’t worry about the thing! Anyway, Cupcake, Carrot Head, sorry if Atsu hurt you,” you change topic nervously biting down on your lip, “He always does what he wants, you know. That’s because SamSam spoils him too much.”

“Osamu literally kicks him every opportunity he gets,” Rin points up. You roll your eyes at him. 

“Yeah, that’s spoiling for him.”

“He doesn’t kick you.”

"Because Osa - chan is nice!"

Rin sighs tiredly at your words and you flash him a peace sign with your fingers. His lips twitch.

“He's a talented setter,” Cupcake shakes his head, interrupting your argument, “I see why he would be irritated at Hinata’s words.”

“Wait, you are telling me it's all my fault?!” 

“Of course it is, you moron,” he shakes his head, before looking back at you, “Anyway, Date - san,” you nervously hold his gaze, Rin’s touch on your wrist being comforting enough to not make you faint, “Is - is - is?”

 _Is_? You don’t understand what he is trying to say. You peer at him with big eyes, trying to communicate that. That doesn't help him at all, as he only shifts his weight awkwardly at that, trying to not look you in the eyes. You wrinkle your nose in confusion. He looks a little bit different from before. Still agitated, yeah, but not murderous. It makes you feel a little bit better, but your heart is still racing, in anticipation and anxiety.

“I feel second-hand embarrassment from him,” you hear RinRin’s soft murmur before Blueberry finally can swallow his words. 

“Y - your neck strain, Date - san," he takes a deep breath, before continuing, "I - is this from yester - yesterday?”

Oh. He is not - he is not angry at you. He is -

 _Is this my fault?_ You nearly hear him say it. It is much worse than you thought. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn't want to kill you. Oh, gods, demons, and devils. Instead of angry, he is so unsure. He looks like a kicked puppy. Okay, he doesn't, not really, but you see him grimacing visibly, and you don't like it. He looks _hurt_. Like, no, no, no! He shouldn't be! It's totally okay, you told him yesterday already. What more are you supposed to do?!

You slide your wrist of Rin's grasp, not sure how to proceed.

“Well - I, I, I, I,” you finally decide to stutter. That's unhelpful, so you take a step forward nonetheless, trying to offer comfort with your proximity, “I - it’s totally o - okay, don’t - don’t worry about it," you manage to say, but that doesn't seem to bring him peace of mind at all. Of all _eldritch abominations_.

What a spectacle you two must be. Both red, stuttering messes, next to impassive Rin and bouncing Carrot Cake. You bite down your lip, fighting back a groan. You are both such wimps, but you can’t help it. You hate when people are hurt. Hate when they are hurt by you when they did nothing wrong.

You take a deep breath. 

“ _Kageyama - san_ \- “

“ _Date - san_ \- “ 

You both stop as you realize you were speaking at the same time. And you fluster even more, wonderful. You tried to go at the same time like in some sort of film. Like, how is it possible? What are you supposed to do now? You bite down on your lip. Kageyama avoids your eyes, and so, you take a deep breath. You try to gather your courage, but before you can, you are interrupted. 

“Oh, who are you talking to, Your Majesty?” comes the mocking voice of - oh mother of fuck.

Irritation flares in you. Your Majesty? Who does he talk to? Like, you are called Princess, but princesses use _her highness_. Do those people know shit about royalty? Like, really, this is just so stupid, you may call Kita a king, but now you start to think that's stupid because those people can't fucking -

Whoa.

Wait a damn minute. _What_ is this bean pole before you? Is that a human being? So, so, so tall. Taller than Atsumu. Taller than Osamu. Taller than Shinsuke, Rin, Aran - taller than - wait, no. He is about the same height as Omimimimi, but something in him is just so _meh_. His blond hair looks natural, for one. His eyes, no matter how much his eyes are covered by glasses, there is just something malicious about him. 

You feel so, so small, you can't help feeling a little bit intimidated by that person. So, you take a step back, falling beside Rin.

You feel your brain just giving up. Height. Embarrassment. Hurt. _But_ history accuracy! _But_ so, so tall! But history! Agh?! What are you supposed to focus on?! Rin takes hold of your wrist again and gently tugs you behind him. You tap your finger on his hand in thanks, but he only releases your hand in answer, glaring without any emotion on Tower before you.

“Tsukishima,” Cupcake snaps at the new guy, his blush completely gone, his face back to hostile, “What do you want?” 

So he was talking to Cupcake? What. You don't understand what's happening, but you guess it's not new. TsukiSomething laughs at this lightly, before he looks at you and Rin with disgust. You feel a shiver run through your neck. You don’t like this person. You want Sam. You want Atsu. _Where are they_? Why are they not with you when those situations happen?

“Did I interrupt the meeting of the elites, dear King?” he bows mockingly before the two of you, “Please, forgive this peasant! He doesn’t know what he is doing after all.” 

He knows fuck about history, doesn't he? This is probably why you don’t like him. Rin doesn’t even grace him with a look, as he takes one of the jelly sticks and hands it to you. You take it without hesitation (that’s food, duh, of course, you take it), and start to stress - eat, trying to calm yourself. Emotions are so exhausting, aren't they?

“Of course,” the blond grins tauntingly, when nobody answers. He turns to you, to your utter fear, "I should ask for forgiveness from Princess as well."

You wrinkle your nose, but don’t answer, way too busy eating and worrying about anything. Definitely not about the way he treats you and Blueberry, or how he has a strange obsession with royalty. You are Japanese. You have daimyo. You have shogun. You have the Emperor. Why is he talking about European royalty? Rin arches up his brow, as he takes the lead instead.

“You two, who have manners,” he looks at the two of your semi - acquaintances, “What is that thing before me. Why is that talking. Doesn’t it see we’re busy?” 

“Hey, don’t insult Tsukki!” comes in another voice. You blink and see a young, brown-haired boy, who instantly makes you think of a dog. Like, is he barking at you, because you insulted his owner? But he was the one who started it. Hypocrite dog.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tower snaps in the direction of him. Wow, you are irritated as well, but it is still harsh, and rude.

He looks so much like a scolded puppy you are nearly seeing a waddling tail behind him. Huh, you probably didn’t see him before because he looks so tiny next to Tower.

“They multiply,” Suna deadpans at them, “Fantastic. Monsters, demons, and clones. What else are we going to meet?”

Puppy’s cheeks redden. 

“That’s Tsukishima Kei,” explains Kageyama, his expression filled with disgust, “He is in the same team as we.”

Tsukki, huh? A moon. It's way too cool of a last name for somebody like him. You, dear rude beanpole, are going to be known now as Moon Tower. You are so not going to even bother remembering the name of this rude asshole.

“What are you doing here, Stingyshima?” Cake asks him, “We are busy!” 

Your jelly stick is eaten, so you take one of your pocky packs - matcha one - and open it. Eat away your stress, you think as you propose one to Rin. He takes it without much thought, so you move the pack in the direction of Blueberry. He blinks at you, startled, but takes a biscuit stick anyway. 

“I hope not Puffy,” you mutter to yourself as you take your snack, “What is with Miyagi and stupid people anyway? Not talking about you, Cupcake.” 

“Wait, are you talking about me, then?!” Carrot Cake shouts again. You grimace. 

“Please lower your volume, I'm in a delicate state of mind,” you take another stick, munching on it nervously, “I’m trying to not panic and I’m failing at it.” 

“Is Inarizaki’s Princess so helpless without her knights?” Tower sneers at you suddenly and you nearly jump in fright at his tone, “Aren’t you a little too dependent on them? That’s honestly pathetic.” 

You drop your pocky stick, but honestly, you can't care now.

Because your mind moves. It understands, and yet, something in you doesn't want to. Because. Because. It's impossible, right?

( _So helpless.)_

Wait. Wait. Wait. You didn't hear it right, yes? You didn't.

What - what - what did he say? His words. His tone. _So helpless_. You heard them before, you heard them before, you heard them before. _Dependent on them so much, Date. You are so pathetic_. You can’t breathe. _You can’t breathe_. Where are you? In the Sendai Gym. In the Sendai Gym, in Sendai, in Miyagi.

_(But suddenly you are back on the floor, hand in your hair, words echoing the room, and you are yanked down, down, down. The blood on the tiles. Your neck and shoulder, and head, hurt, hurt, hurt._

_Please, stop, you want to cry, but you cannot even talk anymore.)_

“That’s not the insult, freckles.”

The world spins around you. You are in the Sendai Gym. In Sendai. In Miyagi. You are far, and safe - so why, why are trembling so much? You take a deep breath, dazed. You feel eyes on yourself - blue eyes, brown eyes, light eyes. Somebody touches your hand lightly. 

It’s Rin. His touch consoles you, bringing a solace, as he squeezes it gently, before moving ahead of you. You take a breath, calming yourself, and then, nearly choke on it.

He smiles.

You are going to repeat it. Rintarou Suna _smiles_. That lazy, tired, forever donning poker face Suna Rintarou. If you didn’t see it before you, you wouldn’t believe it. And yet.

His eyes are not glimmering with not mischievousness, tiredness, or laziness. No. It’s something much, much more vengeful. He’s angry, you realize, and his anger doesn’t look like anything Osamu, Atsumu, or your display. He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t look like he is about to start a fight. He looks sharp, calculating, vindictive. 

You are not the best in Japanese mythology, but there are some things you know. There are two types of fox spirits in Japanese mythology. _Zenko_ , the good foxes, are benevolent servants of god Inari. _Yako_ foxes are seen more like mischievous, malicious kind, not exactly evil, but not kind. 

Maybe they should change your school name because you can’t help but think that Rin is nothing short of _Yako_ fox as he stands in front of you. 

“Hey, the human equivalent of the unholy union of louse and hagfish,” he doesn’t raise his hand, and yet, Moon Tower recoils as if he was slapped, “How about you stop talking as if you have any idea of things happening before you? You throw around words like King or peasant, and every time you speak, you frown. Self - degrading yourself I can respect. But you know, _you little bitch_ ,” he raises his head to look at the boy, “Our dear Princess doesn’t have time for the lowest of the low. That means you if you are not self-aware enough to understand that.” 

He is shorter than Tower without a question, and yet, somehow, somehow. You can’t help but think he is much bigger, so much meaner, more than the blond could ever hope to be. 

“See? That’s an insult. No need to thank me for the demonstration.”

* * *

Take this. 7k. Is somebody proud of me? :D Yeah, hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to scream at me if Karasuno seems too OOC.

Yukie Shirofuku’s nickname on Twitter is taken from Morinaga Pino. According to my very reliable sources (internet), it’s ice cream. More specifically, ice cream balls covered in chocolate. Please, feel free to correct me :)

Nobunaga Oda called himself Demon King, lol. He was a little dramatic. He also bragged about using the skulls of the members of the clan that betrayed him (Azai Clan) as cups. Yeah, he was super extra, just like Atsumu. 

Karasuno is trying _Who Will Piss Inarizaki More_ challenge at this point, lmao. Pretty Rin - centric chapter. But we have my sweet sunshine child and Hinata, and even Tsukki and Yams. 

I have to physically stop myself from writing about what happens in that Atsumu vs Rin scene. There is so much more subtext between them that MC is not able to see and understand. But yeah, Atsu jelly in short.

Stay safe, everyone! Thank you for reading and hope you have a wonderful day!


	25. In which the king meets the vixen (you absolutely hate the royalty, but you can make exception this one time).

You may or may not abducted a child. 

You push more pocky sticks into your mouth, as you wonder. Can you even call Kageyama Tobio, your Blueberry Cupcake, a child? Like, according to the law he is one, but you honestly doubt he is much older than you. Mostly because you are sure he is a high school student. It is hard to tell ages sometimes when everybody is just so much taller than you. 

But yeah, anyway, you kidnapped him with Rin’s help. 

This means Miya twins will have to bail both of you. Well, they are rich, they can afford it. 

“So, that piece of trash was a middle blocker?” 

“R - right,” Blueberry answers Rin’s question with little hesitation and you don’t blame him, “How are you able to tell?” 

How did you find yourself out of the Sendai Gym, sitting on the stairs and eating snacks with kidnaped Kageyama? Well, after Suna roasted Moon Tower, he didn’t glare at him, instead just going _bitch_ every time it seemed like the blond wanted to say anything. That has thrown him out of the loop, so Rin just decided to go. He took you by the wrist and Cupcake by the shirt, dragging the two away. Carrot Cake followed after you like a very loyal puppy. 

This makes him your accomplice, so he can’t go to the police. Nice, nice, your first crime is smooth for something so unplanned and impulsive. Somebody may even call you _a smooth criminal_. 

Okay, so now you only need a fedora. And maybe to learn how to moonwalk. 

“Middle blockers are bitches, take it from one,” he yawns, “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Is Omimimimi a bitch too, then?” you ask idly as you peer into your pack, “He is not as rude as you.”

That bitch’s empty. You grimace with dismay, as you pocket the empty carton and take a new one. Oreo pocky, your second pack. Oh, yeah, you have to pay Rin back. And after that, well. It seems like you will have to visit the _monsieur_ vending machine once more as you start to lack snacks. You are not looking forward to that. It seems you were cursed by some demigods because you always end up meeting assholes next to those machines. 

Where is your _I visited Sendai and all I got was trauma pertaining vending machines_ shirt? 

“He is an anomaly,” Rin shakes his head, like a very old sage, teaching little younglings the way of the life, “I’m pretty sure all of the third years got to Inarizaki by accident, and everyone loved Kita - san so much, they decided to go along with it.” 

The thing about pocky’s packaging - they are not simply in one carton. In that box, there is another little bag, where your sticks hide. Whoever devised it had to be some sort of villain. And he was probably the doctor as well. Just plain evil. 

So, anyway, you try to open this little shitty bag. And nope, you don’t have enough power to do that. You sigh. Where are your strong, strong friends to save you from this particular problem? 

“I’m middle blocker as well,” sulks Carrot Cake, taking the pocky stick you gifted him earlier into his mouth. Good kid, eat away your pain. He frowns a little, and you copy his expression. What’s wrong with him? But before you can ask, he answers, stuttering, “But I don’t think I’m a b - b - b - “ 

Bitch? Is he afraid to say _bitch_? Really? 

“Oh come on,” you sigh, still trying to open this stupid bag, “Are you three? You don’t curse? Are you trying to pull Atsu on me?” 

“T - that’s not - You shouldn’t curse! That’s not something - “ he stammers and you raise your eyebrow at him critically. 

You shouldn’t curse? Why? You never understood this stupid taboo about some words. What’s the reason they are supposed to be forbidden? It is all of dumb tradition, politics long gone. Words are words. Somebody can be hurt as by your _fuck_ as by word _goodbye_. 

So, fuck this. 

“Idiot,” comments Cupcake in deadpan. You nod at that, agreeing, still too busy with your not - open package. You are so going to cry.

Stuffing a sniffle, you look to Rin. He arches his eyebrow at you, before sighing. 

“Give me that.” 

You happily comply, ignoring the ignited squabble of your companions. 

“You are one to talk, Kageyama!” shouts Carrot Cake, glaring at Cupcake, “You don’t curse as well!” 

Blueberry can’t take this insult down, so he stares right back at him. Meanwhile, you observe your pocky pack slowly opening under Rin’s strength. 

“I can curse if I want to!” 

“Then do it!” 

“I - I don’t want to!” 

You snicker at their childish banter. It makes you think of twins, only much, much younger and innocent. So, maybe back when they were seven or eight? You are pretty sure by nine Osamu was already cursing, all thanks to Japanese dubbed _Hell’s Kitchen_ with Gordon Ramsay. Oh, Mr. Ramsay, how much we owe to you. 

“Demoralizing children, [Name], I see,” Rin nods in approval, and both Carrot and Cupcake gasp in shock. He hands you back the now open bag of pocky and you send him a grateful smile. 

“I’m not a child!” they chorus, just like children would do. 

As they hear each other's words, they turn around to face their teammate. Then they growl at each other, looking ready to start a fight. Yeah, totally like twins. You cover your mouth as you snicker at them. 

“You don’t look like one,” Rin deadpans, “Middle blocker, I mean. You totally look like a child. How tall are you anyway?”

Carrot Cake looks unsure if he should be insulted about his latter comment, but he finally decides he would rather answer your friend’s question instead.

“You mean my height? This is why I don’t look middle blocker?” he wrinkles his nose, “I’m 163 centimeters tall.” 

“Didn’t you add a centimeter?” points up Cupcake. You giggle at that again, and Carrot Cake reddens. 

"Shut up, Bakayama!” 

You don’t understand what the problem with his height is. Like, doesn't he see there are people shorter than him? Like you. Why bother lying? For you, he is tall. So tall. Little shit. You thrust your first oreo stick into your mouth, regretting you didn’t take any high heels with you. They would totally add some centimeters to your height, but you probably wouldn’t be able to enter a gym in them. 

Which is a pity. You have so many beautiful shoes you wish you could wear. So many. So beautiful. Your life sucks. You pout a little at this. 

“No,” comes the answer of ever - suffering Rin. He sighs, as he looks at the grey sky before you, “Too tired to explain.”

You tremble a little. 

The weather is not the best, you guess. It’s April, which is supposedly a warm month in Japan. And yet you still yourself shiver a little under Osamu’s jacket. You are better off than Suna, who is wearing shorts, so you can’t complain aloud. You totally would like to, though. 

“What?!” screams Carrot Cake, forgetting your plea to be quieter, “That’s not fair! Tell me! Please, tell me!” 

In answer, Suna very deliberately takes another jelly stick in his mouth. He even has the audacity to look him straight into the eyes. Ha. He is the bitch. 

“How tall are you, cupcake?” you probe, hiding your fists in way too large sleeves, “I mean, you are totally higher than me, but are you higher than, I dunno, RinRin?"

“180 cm,” he answers, before looking at your friend, who is busy avoiding Carrot’s eyes. 

That’s - that’s tall. But he is shorter than twins. 

“RinRin?” you tilt your head, wincing a bit of fast movement. 

“Huh,” he brings his palm to his eyes, covering himself from the short boy. Cake sulks at that a little bit, “Last time I checked, about 184? 185? Who knows? Who cares? Not me for sure.” 

“Was that three years ago?” you deadpan at him, “Or seven?” 

“What sort of nine years old is 184 cm tall, you adorable idiot?” he shakes his head, “They make us measure ourselves before every tournament,” he explains lazily, “That’s so troublesome to do. We even have to jump, ugh.” 

“They do?” Carrothead’s eyes start to sparkle. Suna sighs, but he continues, “That sounds so cool! We will do that too!” 

“Good luck, shrimp,” Suna doesn’t even look bothered by this comment. At the same time, not much bothers him. Huh. 

“You are short for middle blocker,” points up Kageyama. You blink up at that. Is that short? For you, Suna Rintarou is a tree. Nice, nihilistic tree. Very tall and very depressed. 

“He is taller than twins, though,” you try to take another oreo pocky stick, while your hands are in sleeves. You grimace, finding it a little bit difficult, before succeeding. You probably look stupid as hell, though, but you can live with that. 

“Really?! Taller than the Emperor?!” Carrot Cake asks excitedly and you nod, a little bit unsure. He sparkles even more, before grimacing at his friend, “That’s rude of you, Kageyama - kun.”

“What? But that’s the truth,” poor Cupcake looks so confused, “Middle blockers in high school are normally taller than that.” 

He is a complicated person, huh? Like, he can be scary, but then he blushes or doesn’t understand normal social cues. That’s endearing if you can say so yourself. He is a good person, probably. And for sure, he is a very good prisoner! 

“I guess I am,” Rin doesn’t mind, because you are pretty sure he only minds when he sees a jerk bullying his friends, “How big was that bitch from before?” 

Bitch from before, huh. He means Moon Tower, right? You kind were dazed at the time, bad memories resurfacing, but you know one thing, and - and, well, and those things make you flustered. So, so flustered.

You cover your red cheeks with your sleeve. Rin protected you from a bully. He stood up for you. He is your friend, and he is so _good_. Maybe, just maybe, you could start doing his homework for free? That’s how friendships work, right? You do those things because you care. 

You don’t know.

_You don’t know._

Should you ask Atsumu or Osamu? Would they know? How do normal friendships work?! 

“190 cm tall,” answers Cupcake without hesitation, not being able to know your conundrum, “Would you be able to go against him?”

Whut. 

Ignoring his question, that blond bitch is 190 centimeters tall. Jesus H. Christ. Nearly two meters tall. It’s over six feet. It’s nearly a whole ass giraffe neck. It's a kangaroo's jumping height. Or an average door. Moon Tower nearly doesn’t make it through doors. 

You think you may or may not have a mental breakdown. Again. 

“Yeah, probably,” Rin answers cheerfully. Okay, he is not cheerful, but anything sounds cheerful now to your broken mind, sue you, “People like him are easy to read. Walking issues, lashing at everybody. Boring. At least make your villain backstory a little more original, asshole.”

He shouldn’t have said that. Why? Well, because - 

“Please, teach me!” 

Carrot Cake is very fast to stand up before the three of you. He looks seriously at Rin and bows down, creating a nearly perfect 90 degrees angle with his body. You hum, a little bit fazed, a little bit impressed. 

“What.”

Rin, on the other hand, is not impressed at all. He is still half laying on the stairs next to you, looking even more dead than before. The wind blows up around you, spreading fallen sakura flowers even more. This is so ridiculous. What sort of scene is happening? 

You blink once, confused. Rin’s expression becomes straight-up suicidal. Cupcake looks murderous. And yet, Carrot Head doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. Which is really, really unsettling. Like, it's always the quiet ones, right? But he was not quiet, wait a minute - 

“Teach me how to be a better middle blocker!” repeats little orange, not caring for any of your reactions. 

“Didn’t you want to be the ace?” Rin is finally able to mutter, lifting his head for the minute, “Aces are mostly wing spikers, o the bright one.” 

“The ace is the player who gets the most points!” he declares confidently, “He can do that by blocking and spiking!” 

Well, he may have just broken Rin. Your friend's eyes widen, before he throws his head back, nearly hitting the step above. He could hurt himself bad that way. You grimace. If you think about it, maybe that was his goal. Well, he failed, loser.

You, on the other hand, are a little bit confused. You just heard some words. Do you understand what they are talking about? Nope. But you know that Carrot Cake just asked can only be answered in one way. 

“No.” 

Yeah, this way. 

“What?!” 

“Of course he didn’t agree, you idiot,” Cupcake rolls his eyes, “You can’t receive properly. Do you really think a person from powerhouse would just teach you like that?”

“That has nothing with being from powerhouse or whatever," Rin narrows his eyes dangerously, "Do you think you can learn how to block in what, two days?” he sighs, not letting Carrot start a new fight with Cupcake, “I don’t even know your name, shrimp.”

Neither do you, to be honest. That’s not important, though. You have more relevant problems. Like, the lack of popcorn. Gosh, what you would do to get some popcorn to look at that very, very interesting turn of events. You slide one of your hands out of sleeves to munch on more pocky. Yeah, you are cold, but being hungry is worse. 

“I’m Hinata Shouyo, it’s nice to meet you, senpai!” Carrot Cake bows humbly again, completely missing the point, “Teach me, please! Or give me some tips at least! ”

His last name is _Hinata_. He is literally the sun. With his bright hair and loud personality. That’s - that’s some irony from the universe. And is not his teammate TsukiSomething, the Moon Tower himself? What a wild world to live in. 

You place your hand with the pocky stick in the air, before dropping it in your face direction. You try to catch it with your lips, but fail miserably and it hits you in the nose. You groan, as you hastily move to catch your snack before it falls to the ground. You succeed, thankfully, so you smile yourself. 

There is a muffled chuckle. You look around, (not fast, because you don’t want to whimper again), and catch the guilty eyes of Blueberry. He quickly avoids your gaze, turning his head away.

Okay, that was a little bit embarrassing. 

“Your name is fucking _Sun_? Of course, it is. Oh god. You don’t even know my name,” points up Rin meanwhile, still dead tired, “Just give up, kid, and leave me, and my unhealthy coping mechanisms alone, thank you. Goodbye.” 

Poor Carrot Cake doesn’t even know how to react to that. He fidgets on his feet, looking nervously. 

“Ehm, I - “ he finally stutters out, “I - I know your name, of course, I do!” 

He is an awful liar. You are pretty sure no person on the planet Earth would believe him. Rin doesn’t even bother to blink at him, only slams his head into the step above again. You take another stick, this time directly to your mouth. Never again, you think, as you know you will try the same thing at least three times more. 

“Suna Rintarou,” the one to answer is Blueberry Cupcake, who still doesn’t look at you, the corner of his mouth turned up. 

He doesn’t explain how he does know Rin’s name. You remember your theory of him being the stalker. Maybe he is one, after all, no matter how good of a person he appears to be. 

Suncake, as his name suggests, practically radiates his very own sun rays, though. You remember Rin saying something about sunglasses, and yeah, you need them as well.

“Suna - senpai!” he screams, smiling brightly, “Please, teach me!” 

“The answer is still no,” comes Rin’s voice, “Fuck off. I’m too busy being miserable to help you.” 

Okay, this is getting boring now. 

“What are we even doing here?” you interject quickly, mostly because you don’t want to hear more of this argument. It has grown boring, “It’s cold. So cold. I’m cold, RinRin.” 

You whimper pathetically to reiterate your point. You. Cold. Let’s go back. If Suna wants to torture Carrot and Blueberry more you can take them with you. Or at least you can take the black-haired one. He is a prisoner, after all. 

“I have no idea. Suffering, probably,” he finally takes his head from the stair, “I took the normal one, because he would probably die if he didn’t apologize to you or something?” and then, to your surprise, he proceeds to take off his jacket, “Here.” 

He hands it to you without hesitation. What. What. What. You bite down on your lip as your pocky stick dies again as it falls from your hand as you slowly try to consider what is happening before you. He just took off his jacket in this hellish, coldish weather and offered you his blazer. Just because you said you are cold in passing? 

Rin, oh Rin. That’s - that’s - that’s unexpected. What the fuck is wrong with you, RinRin? You won’t take it, you literally cannot do it. Just look at what he is wearing, for fuck’s sake. Shorts and a T-shirt. You are at least in long, comfortable sweatpants. How dare he offer you his jacket when he looks like that? Is he out of his fucking mind?! 

You swallow down your anger, trying to be calm. And then you meet his gaze. 

This is where you drop the line. What. The. Hell.

“No, no, no, shit, RinRin!” you try to shove his hand away, “What about you?! You are an idiot! You are going to be sick!”

That’s kind, and whatnot, but yeah, where is his selfishness? His self - preservation?! You won’t take it. You can’t. It’s _too_ kind. Too nice. You don’t know already how to pay him back - and yeah, you owe him money, gosh, but you can talk about it later. 

“I crave death, [Name],” he rolls his eyes at you, “And I’m not trembling even like that, not like somebody else. So stop being cute and take it, before I throw up. Ugh. So gross.” 

He then proceeds to throw his jacket over your shoulders, and you try to dodge it, but then thinks better of it. This is how he wants to play? Okay, okay, you’re in. 

You look him straight into his eyes, take said cloth, and hurl it back at him. And not at his shoulders, oh no, you precisely aim at his stupid face. 

“[Name],” he sighs under it, “You are so fucking dumb.” 

Yup, you know that. You are proud of that, asshole. 

“Get fucked, RinRin,” you wrinkle your nose, “You just can’t do shit like that. I care about you, you asshole. Wear your stupid jacket and let’s go back to the gym. Why are we here? Let’s take Carrot Cake and Blueberry, and go!” 

He decides to not grace you with a comment, so you take the blazer from his face and reposition it into his shoulders. You arch your eyebrows at him, as you demand of him: 

“Slide your hands in, bitch.” 

“I hate you so much,” he starts to take it on nonetheless, “I try to be nice once. It doesn't work. Never again,” he looks incredibly sad for the moment before he sticks his tongue out at you, “That’s part of your charm.” 

Wait, what charm? Do you have charm? Where, bitch. You are pretty sure there is nothing magical about you. Magic, unfortunately, doesn't exist, no matter how much you wish. So, in a rare display of maturity, you stick your tongue out at him.

His lips curl in a gentle smile for the second. You snort. Are you supposed to be impressed with him? Well, you are not. You cross your arms around your chest. You are cold, that’s right. But at least he is not suffering even more than usual! 

“Now, answer my question, RinRin.”

Poor Carrot Cake and Blueberry Cupcake are whispering something, most likely gossiping about you or something else. They both just awkwardly are standing here, trying to not look at the two of you, as they nervously whisper. You roll your eyes at them. 

If they want to tell you something, they should just get on with it. 

“Yeah, yeah, as you demand, Princess,” Rin deadpans, “I thought it is better to take the normal one here. Miya demons would probably kill him, or something, and he looked like he wanted to say something. Not that I care.”

Tsundere. Literal tsundere. You smile fondly at him. 

“The normal one?”

“Person whose name I don’t know A,” he points to Blueberry with his chin, “He is the normal one,” at this, Kageyama blinks rapidly, before finally looking at him, “You don’t cause migraines. You are not a literal walking carrot. You are the normal one,” he takes a deep breath, “So, tell sorry or something, I don’t care, I want to die.”

At this, you look back to Blueberry. And you frown. You don’t know - you don’t want him to apologize. You don’t need them. Yeah, your neck and shoulder is a bitch. Yeah, the side of your abdomen is literal black. Who cares? It will heal in time.

It’s not like he wanted to do it. He apologized once. He gave your yogurt. You are even, damn it. 

So, you bite down your lip, and smile at him encouragingly, as you try to find your words. He is faster than you at this, though. He stands up, following after Carrot Cake, and bows to you deeply. 

Awkward. Now you are flustered, damn it. 

“Date - san, I'm the reason for your injuries,” he says in a severe tone as if personally killed your whole family and was prepared to die, “I don’t know how to apologize, but I will do anything!” 

But you don’t want anything from his. Geez. He doesn’t understand it. There is your pièce de résistance. What are you supposed to do? Just let him buy you snacks? No, that will not work. Yogurt was not enough for him to lay down - 

Wait, wait, wait, why are going along his logic? 

That’s stupid. Very stupid. You’re dumb. You just have to tell him to fuck off, and then never see him again - 

But. But. But. You can’t. 

_His hurt expression_.

You remember it. Blue eyes, downcast with anger and self - loathing. The quiver in the lip, the cracking of his voice, unsure words. He looked haunted. He looked lost. He looked so, so guilty and sad. 

You know guilt. You know guilt so well it physically hurts you to see it, to remember it on somebody else's face. It haunts your dreams, catches you when you stumble, and appears every time you see twins without you. _They don’t need you. You only bring them down,_ it whispers in your ears. You can’t even disagree. 

You are guilty of so many sins. You are the reason why Osamu and Atsumu didn’t sparkle brightly like you were supposed to. You held them back. You still do. 

And so, you know you can’t say _no_ to him. You cannot refuse his earnest feelings. You are such a wimp, it’s pathetic. 

“Kinky.”

Not appreciated, RinRin, really not. Blueberry blushes furiously, and nearly stumbles before Carrot Cake catches him. You leave a heavy sigh out of your mouth before you slap the shoulder of Rin. The last thing you need is to be red-faced. 

“Bad RinRin. Let me do the talking."

Rin shrugs his shoulders at you. You sigh, before shifting the focus of your attention back to Cupcake, who is still very much flustered. Poor child.

“Kageyama - san,” you say as you tap your fingers on your arm.

You use his name - yeah, you remember it. It's impressive, right? Well, he has to feel you are serious, because he instantly raises his head. His eyes glimmer, as he looks at you. They look so sad.

“I don’t fault you. It was an accident,” he opens his mouth, but you are faster, “But you feel like you did something wrong, right?” 

He nods at this, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Okay then,” you twirl your hair around your finger, tilting your head just a bit with curiosity, “If you feel guilty, tell me why Moon Tower called you His Majesty. You two seem to be interested in royalty, which is strange. We don’t have kings in Japan, so I want to know why.” 

What you didn’t expect was the profound silence that follows your statement. That seemed to be an easy request. Simple one. And yet Blueberry Cupcake - no, not Cupcake - And yet Kageyama Tobio stiffens and looks like you slapped him in the face. 

Instantly, you regret it. You defensively raise your hands. 

“Y - you don’t ha - have to!” you stutter, like an idiot you are, “I - I mean, it - it’s not important, so - so -” 

“He is King of the Court!” Carrot declares hastily, not waiting for Blueberry, as he points to Blueberry, “What, Kageyama - kun, cat got your tongue?” 

King of the Court? That’s the stupidest thing you have ever heard, and just today you were informed about people calling Atsumu, your childhood friend, with the title of the Emperor. So, yeah, that’s a lot of bullshit to compete with. 

And yet.

King of the Court. Do you hear those cries? That’s Charles Montesquieu, straight out of his grave. Like, yeah, kings used to be supreme judges, right. But they were not named kings of courts. And yeah, there is a different court - court of the nobles, the dens of plots, conspiracies, and hate that you only read about. It still doesn’t make sense, though. 

Blueberry doesn’t look like a king of any kind, and that’s a compliment, you swear. A magical crown doesn’t appear on his head, no matter how much Carrot may wish it does. He shifts to Hinata, though, looking irritated. 

“Don’t call me that,” he grimaces instead of shouting. His words are not full of misery, and yet still, he feels so sad.

“I said that I think it’s cool, though,” Carrot Cake answers without a hitch in his breath.

What is with people from current times idolizing kings? They were awful people - Wait, you idolize some of them as well. Nevermind. 

“T - they gave you lame-ass nickname as well?” you sputter with difficulty, “T - that’s awkward.” 

“Some people are insane,” Rinc confirms, “Really, you have time and energy to do shit like that in your free time? I hardly even stay awake.”

“Lame?!” Carrot Cake shouts offended and you grimace, stop being so loud, “But is no King of the Court cool, Senpai?!” 

“Don’t call me that,” Rin deadpans. 

“I told you, it’s not - “ Blueberry tries to cut in, but the one to stop him is you. 

“Bro,” you interject, not being able to stop yourself from dropping a little bit of wisdom on him, “Do you even know what shit kings did in the past?”

Suncake instantly pales. 

“What did - did they do?!” he shouts nervously. Such ignorance! Some people would find that endearing. Not you, though. Not when it comes to history. 

“Bro,” you drawl words, shaking your head lightly, “Oh bro.” 

You can’t help snicker escaping from your mouth. Gosh, his face is just so hilariously scared, making you think of first years from your club. Are you a villain now? You are totally the villain. Good. First, the villain next comes the evil overlord. 

“Seriously, though, calling somebody king or princess is more insulting than anything else,” you bring your knees to your chest, embracing them with your arms, “Like, are you telling me comparing me to the daughter of the king is supposed to be a good thing? Princess Sissi disagrees.” 

You lean your chin on one of your knees, for a moment wandering into an awful, awful world of royalty once again. Not to even start talking about the tragic lives of Catherine of Aragon, Marie Antoinette, or Alexandra Feodorovna. Being a princess sucked. Strangely maybe you preferred being called the Vixen. At least it sounded badass like you wouldn’t get down without a fight. 

Maybe. The jury is still out, and it's all Atsumu's fault.

“It was intended as an insult.”

What. 

Please, repeat it once again. Did somebody start calling him king as an insult? Then why does Suncake is so happy about it? You lift your face, surprised and confused. 

Blueberry avoids your gaze, and you feel a wave of guilt crash over you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Somehow he looks even sadder _now_ and you can’t help, but feels like it’s yours _._ You don’t like it, you don’t like it all.

“You're a setter, aren’t you?” Rin asks, his tone level and calm. You recoil at this.

_The King of the Court._

_Intended as an insult._

Something in your shatters. The court, as in the volleyball court. The setter, the same position Atsu plays. The same position Sam played. 

This is the puzzle. The riddle that is close to being solved. The case that went cold a long time ago. You feel dread. You feel the anticipation. Somehow, your mind knows the answer, but you don’t want to accept it.

Your blood runs so, so cold. 

And yet, you feel hot flames of your fury flaring up. 

“How do you know, Suna - san?”

_The King of the Court._

_Intended as an insult._

His tone. His mannerism. Downcast gaze. And guilt, guilt over this little accident. It’s stupid, but something in you _roars_ , demanding justice. 

You can see Osamu in his place.

You can see Atsumu in his place.

The familiar rage fills your body and for the moment, you feel so fiercely protective over this boy you hardly know. You want to burn this whole city down. You want to hunt down everybody who hurt him. You want to embrace him and tell him everything is going to be okay.

Just like - just like - 

_(That’s okay, sunshine, Atsumu voice in the darkness, We will take care of everything, okay?_

_Don’t worry about anything, Osamu lips kiss the crown of your hair, We will protect you now. You are not alone.)_

“Your hands,” explains Rin, not being able to decipher your thoughts. Or at least you hope you are not able to read them. They are very, very violent, “Most of the wing spikers or middle blockers - wait, I don’t have the strength to continue, you know, nevermind.” 

That explanation makes Cupcake frown, while Sunshine brightens, gushing under his breath how cool Suna was. 

You ignore them both. 

“Show me,” you say suddenly, impulsively, “Show me your hands, Kageyama - san.”

It’s not a plea. It’s a demand, an order. You slowly abandon your current position, standing up and going straight to Cupcake. He instantly flusters as you evaluate him carefully.

“W - what?” he stutters, nervously fidgeting with his hands. 

You probably should be embarrassed, but your rage already has taken over you. You don’t care how stupid you have to look at him. You don’t care that he probably thinks you are weird. 

The only thing you care about is - 

“Give me your hands,” you repeat patiently, “I want to see it.” 

He doesn’t move, frozen. Fine, you growl to yourself, I will do this myself. You reach for his hands yourself, taking them into yours without any shame whatsoever. 

“W - wait, I - “

You ignore his words. You can see him talking, but you just refuse to concentrate on his words, focusing on his hands.

The first thing you notice is that they are perfectly maintained. Rin didn’t joke about it. They look better than what you saw of some models.

Those are not the hands of the volleyball player. He has the hands of an artist, of a pianist, of a masseuse. His nails are trimmed carefully, the way you would never be able to recreate. His palms are gentle, the skin soft. It makes you think of silk, so smooth and lovely. 

You rub your thumb over his palm. 

He has to love volleyball so much, you think. Just like Atsumu. Just like Osamu. And yet, they are nothing like the strong, dependable hands of your friends. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. 

This difference - it doesn’t take away the desire to protect him from - from - from _bullies (abusers, oppressors, tyrants, tormentors, kings)_ away. It makes you feel so much stronger about it. 

“Your hands are way softer than Atsu or Osa’s,” you tell him earnestly, “I would give them eleven out of ten ratings. It’s so nice to hold them.” 

You look at his eyes, his sad, blueberry - like eyes, and smile with all kindness your battered heart can muster. He deserves better than your frail grin, he deserves better than your dirty hands touching him. But if nobody else offered - if his friend is blind to his suffering, if his team stays silent, if nobody gives a fuck, then -

Then _you_ are going to be one to do so. 

You bite down on your lip, feeling determined. 

Kageyama stays quiet, letting you play with his fingers, looking at his palms without any complaints. His face is red, so, so red, and he does everything he can not look at you yet again. 

You grimace for a second, letting all of your negative emotions out. Breathe out. Breathe in. You smile then at him. Like you would smile at Atsumu. Like you would smile at Osamu. 

“Kageyama - san,” you call him warmly, making sure you don’t sound harsh, and yet, he stills wince as if you were to hit him, “Do you want to exchange numbers with me?” 

He finally meets your gaze. You maintain your smile, trying to communicate everything you feel, everything you went through, everything you promised him just moments ago. 

You don’t know if he understands, as he blushes even harder, before slowly, hesitantly, taking one of his hands back. He reaches into a pocket and hands his phone to you. There is a flicker of something in his eyes, something hopeful and good, and yet so heartbreaking as if he was afraid if you would betray him. You squeeze his palm warmly in reassurance. 

Then you gently set his hand down and take the phone into your fingers. You unlock it, taking only a second to look at the background (Mikasa’s ball laying next to a kitten, how cute) before going to his contact. There, you enter your number and name.

Nodding to yourself lightly, you give it back. 

“Call me if somebody dares to call you that again,” you tell him, slightly narrowing your eyes, “No, scratch that, call me if you need _anything_ , Kageyama - san. You don’t deserve to be treated this way. “

“I - I wasn’t the best person at the time,” he stutters back, unsure, but you don’t care. There will be no victim-blaming on your Christian server. 

“I don’t give a fuck, Kageyama - san. Call me, please,” you ask him cheerfully. Okay, it’s not a question. It’s demand, yet again. 

You can be a pushy person when you need to be. 

And now you need - no, you _must_ be one. 

He still looks so insecure, so hesitant, just watching his phone with bewilderment and fever. He doesn’t look like a person who will definitely call you, so you sigh, clasping your hands behind your back. 

“I won’t forgive you if you don’t,” you stand up on the balls of your feet, grinning mischievously, “So, be sure to do it!” 

“W - Wha? But you said you will forgive me if I tell you about the King thing.” 

He looks so _cheated_. You giggle. 

“I’m taking it all back,” you say cheekily, “I’m the bitch, after all.” 

* * *

The alternative title of this chapter is “Rin becomes a father (bother) figure to two boys” or “Hinata forcefully adopts a new dad”.

So. Yeah, as we know the situation between Kageyama and his team was not so simple, but MC knows shit about it. She hears a little and comes to one conclusion. Hope you enjoyed her being protective, though. 

This chapter was supposed to be the last before Shiratorizawa’s match, but guess what? We will have at least one more. I didn’t get everything I wanted to write before the match, so, yeah…

 _Charles Montesquieu_ mentioned in the chapter is the person primarily responsible for the theory of separation of powers, which is used in a lot of constitutions around the world. He just straight up went “Y’know, maybe one person shouldn’t have so much power” before it was cool. Pretty swell dude.

Hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for reading, stay safe everybody!


	26. In which you don't understand people's intentions (because really, you can't be called a pretty girl).

“Okay, let’s stop this deep and emotional moment before someone gets sick.” 

You flutter your eyes, confused, before turning around to face Rintarou. He has already stood up and come way closer to you than you find comfortable. Like, how didn’t you see him coming so close? If he was a serial killer, you would be so six feet under. 

“I’m talking about you, pretty girl,” Rin deadpans, shoving the pocky pack, the one you disregarded to get to Kageyama, to your jacket’s pocket, “You’re shivering.” 

_P - pretty girl?!_

What does he mean by that? You wish you had enough strength to reach for your phone and use it to search the web. Well, you are fairly smart, so let’s try to define it on your own. Pretty, you are sure, means _attractive_. A girl is a young woman. 

You are the only girl here. You are not sure about the pretty part, but - he could try to pick up Carrot Cake or Blueberry Cupcake, right? But neither of them is shivering, you think absentmindedly, so it leaves only one person. 

You. 

He talks about you. He just called you a _pretty girl._ You flush, lowering your gaze, not feeling cold anymore. At least you will not get hypothermia and die tragically this way. 

Rin probably doesn’t care about your blush, because just continues to speak, not reacting to the way you morph into a tomato.

“Sorry, Person Whose Name I Still Don’t Remember. Not you, shrimp, fuck you. We have to go before I get mutilated by Osamu. I hope I don’t see you around.”

“Ah - yes, sorry for holding you - “

“Don’t apologize, kid,” Suna waves his off, sighing tiredly, “You had business with her, but the time is tight or whatever. The match is coming and Kita will scold me if we’re late.” 

You bite down on your lip even harder. Are you trying to make it bleed? No. Yes. Maybe. Too many emotions, too confused, and you are not a _pretty girl_. No, not at all. Why did he call you that? Is he making fun of you? He totally is. Or joking. Like, Rin called you cute or adorable before, but - 

Oh god. 

Does he hate you? But he helped you so many times! He can’t hate you, right? He is your friend. You are going to cry. Where is your emotional support? 

“D - Date - san,” you are taken away from your thoughts by Blueberry’s stutter, “I - I don’t think it’s a g - good - “ 

Oh. Okay, fuck off, feelings, your Blueberry Cupcake needs you. 

You wrinkle your nose, before looking back to him. He is all red, probably embarrassed by your bold, outrageous demands. You see his hands, those beautiful hands, nervously fidgeting. You don’t like the way he reacts to something so basic, so natural.

“Kageyama - san,” you call him softly, “I don’t want to force you to contact me. I’m just joking, you know. There is nothing to forgive,” you take a deep breath, “I just wish I could be your friend, somebody you can depend on if that’s alright.” 

You can’t help somebody if they don’t want your help. 

But. 

You can offer it nonetheless. 

“A - a friend?!” he yelps, surprised. He looks you into the eyes and you smile at him gently, trying to put him at ease. Your smile has to be atrocious, because he reddens even more, “I - I don’t think - I - I would like to be your friend, D - date - san, but - but, your neck!” 

Your hand goes to your neck by instinct. You wince a little, as you do so, which is the wrong thing to do. Kageyama freaks out at that. And simple _oh no_ , he goes full into _Panic! At the [Name]_ mode. 

“You’re - you’re hurt because of me!” he nearly screams, then starts to nervously search his pockets. 

You pout that. Seriously. That was a little wince. You had worse when you were six. What is with boys being oversensitive over something like that? Osamu and Atsumu can be understood, they are babies when it comes to you sometimes. But even Kageyama? What? Are you so pathetic he needs to behave like that?

You sigh before you find that he shoves something in your direction. It’s a little carton. Milk. Strawberry milk. Bitch, who are you to say no to that? 

“Your donation to _[Name] and the company_ is greatly appreciated,” you tell him, as you shamelessly pocket it, “That doesn’t change the fact I still want to be your friend, though. Can’t I?”

“Just take her help, kid,” Rin comes with unexpected help, “She’s stubborn. Way too stubborn. Had to get dragged to our gym screaming and kicking.”

“I know how to react to being kidnapped, RinRin,” you glower a little at this, remembering way too clearly how you ended up as the team’s manager, “By the way, not all abductors are as kind as we. Please, scream next time, okay?” 

You wish you could ruffle his hair, but he is too damn tall and it’s not like you can ask him to lean down for you. He is not Atsumu or Osamu, no matter how much you compare him to them.

“Kidnapped?” he asks, suddenly dumbfounded by your words. 

You roll your eyes. Oh, look at him, he didn’t even know he was taken hostage by you and Rin. How could people even think about calling a king somebody like that? You are pretty sure there is no bad bone in his body. 

“Stranger - danger!” you clasp your hands, “Don’t follow anybody into a dark alley, Cupcake! That's the first rule of the world!” 

“What’s the second rule?” Rin wonders. 

“Y - you are not strangers, though,” Cupcake narrows his eyes with confusion, doing everything in his power to not look at you, “And - and we’re not at the dark alley.” 

“You are red, you know, Kageyama - kun!” comes the voice of Suncake. You blink. He is still here, huh? “Are you embarrassed?” 

“S - shut up, you idiot!” 

You roll your eyes at that. Here comes their argument. Huh, that feels like something straight out of the twins. The twins, huh? You wonder if they already destroyed the third net, or if they are only on their second one. You really should head back, huh?

Yeah. Rin is right. It’s time to return to Hell. At least you will be warmer there. It’s cold here. Stupid April weather. You pat Kageyama lightly on the shoulder. You feel bad about it, as he nearly jumps in fright from your touch. 

There goes your smooth exit. 

Wonderful. At least you didn't trip this time.

“I’m going to go now,” you tell him, trying to salvage it, “Please, call me. I will be waiting for you!” 

Are you coming on a little bit desperate? Fuck. Probably. But you are a little bit desperate, aren’t you? Just a tiny bit. Tiny, tiny bit. So, dear kids, what are we doing in times like that? Smile. Smile and wave, and hide all of your existential dread. 

You do just that. You try to still look cool as you send him an awkward smile, turn around and go, afraid of any answer. You only hope he is not going to yell after you. Oh god. He better not start screaming he will never contact you, and that you are an awful person. That would be humiliating.

He is a better person than that. Probably. 

“You are embarrassed!” you hear Carrot’s voice again, “You like her, don’t you?” 

“W - what are you talking a - about, y - you moron?!”

Like you? _Like you_? Oh, you hope so. You want him to. You bite down on your lip as you start to walk away, trying to not look back. You hear footsteps behind you, and you hope it’s Rin because you don’t know what you would do if Cupcake followed you. 

“Oh, Suna - senpai, wait! You didn’t give me any tips!” 

“Fuck off, shrimp.”

Okay, that’s Rin. Good. Good. You take a deep breath. You have an idea, how to calm yourself a bit. It’s a stupid one, but when did that dissuade you from doing something? 

“ _All my life I've been good_ ,” you sing in English. You feel yourself calming down already, as you start to remember words of the old song, “ _But now_.” 

If you learned anything in your life, aside from history, that’s everything is better with music. Rin catches up with you, shooting you a glance. You motion to him with your hand, inviting him to join you. He grimaces at you, before taking his phone out of his pocket. 

Did he start to film you? Pff. What an idiot. 

“ _I'm thinking, what the hell?_ ”

 _What the hell_ , indeed. 

* * *

Somehow, you find your way back to the gym. Which is impressive, because you were sure you are going to get lost. But you didn’t!

And you even stopped at the vending machine one last time. To repay Rin, you purchased several packs of jelly sticks for Rin. Then, more even more pocky. And maybe several candy bars. _And_ caramel Pepsi, or maybe two. 

“It’s not only for me,” you explained to Rin when he arched his eyebrow at you, “I’m being a good manager!”

“You are good at giving people diabetes, alright,” he sighed, “Give me that, you look ridiculous trying to hold all by yourself.” 

This is how you enter the gym. You are the one to open the doors, and so, you are the one that has to dodge the incoming ball. The action of moving so fast is too painful for your body to handle, so you whine again. It’s still better than receiving said tank’s missile on your face. 

You like your nose. You would like to still have it in one piece. 

“Sunshine? Hey, Rin, why did you let her come first?! You were supposed to protect her!” 

This voice is like music to your ears. You can’t believe you were away for like, an hour, and you missed them so much. They can never know how much they mean to you or Atsumu will never stop showing off. 

You giggle at the face Rin pulls before you skip ahead to the bench. 

“Hey, demons, it’s ya boy,” he says, “Brought your Princess safe and sound, and only a little bit traumatized.” 

“I’m traumatized a lot,” you fight back, “The vending machines are evil.” 

“Did you fight it?” asks Akagi, “Do the headmaster have to pay for the damages again?” 

He sounds way too cheerful for your liking, so you narrow your eyes into a glare at him. He answers with a light laugh, before rejoining Gintama on the court. Said jerk only nods at you, which means one of your candy bars is not going to him. Fuck him. 

Rin follows after you and both of you flop at the bench, as he places your snacks just between two of you. Kurosu sends you two a very judging glare. You nearly hear him mumble something about how much today’s young people suck. You try not to care by his words, and, let’s be honest, it’s easy to do because you are easily distracted by people you care about. 

You open your arms to twins, who abandoned everything in their path to join you, inviting them to hug you. You don’t even have to wait before you feel yourself being encompassed by Osamu. He is a much better twin indeed.

Gee, it feels like you didn’t see him for so long. 

“Bought you pocky,” you tell his chin, “Mango and banana.” 

“Mmh,” he mumbles back, as he leans his head into your hair, “Thank you.” 

He has to release you after that, as Atsumu kicks him. Osamu grumps and unhappily takes place next to you on the bench. 

“Asshole,” he calls him, but is promptly ignored as Tsu kneels on the floor before you, taking your hands into his, “You are so lame, Tsumu.” 

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it from you,” he snaps back to his twin, before he turns to you, “Missed you,” he tells gently and you can’t fight a small smile forming on your face. 

“Can’t live without me?” you tease, “Didn’t you have fun with volleyball?” 

“I have more fun where you are around,” Atsu confesses easily, before frowning for a bit, “What took you so long? What is that story with the vending machine? Did somebody give you trouble?”

“Nope, not really.” 

Yes, somebody did, but you are not going to tell them what happened. You know how they would react. They are already stressed enough. Not point in making them angry. 

“Met a bitch, annihilated him, probably adopted some children and then lost them,” Rin explains calmly to them, as he takes jelly sticks from the mountain of snacks, “I would say it was time well spent. Losing children was the best part, I think.” 

“What bitch?” comes Sam’s question, as he looks to bought food hungrily, “Do I need to murder somebody?” 

“Don’t you worry about anything,” you draw a circle at Atsu’s palm with your finger. Huh. You reposition your hands, now way too invested in lining paintings at his hands, “Hey, hey, AtsuAtsu, guess what it is.” 

It's a cat. Like, you are not a good artist, but you can draw a little cat on your friend’s hand. You used to draw a lot of cats in kindergarten. Ninja cats, pirate cats, or Socrates - like cats. Little [Name] liked her Ancient Greece, alright. 

You even used to sing about it. Not about little Socracat, your dad would never let you, the asshole he was. He allowed you to sing about Ancient Greece _only_ if you still won the contest. Well, you won it, of course, and were proud of yourself. At least until that one little jerk told at the song contest that your song about Thermopylae was stupid. You didn’t forgive it to this day. Like, how dare he?! What does he even know about Thermopylae anyway?! 

Ugh. The memory makes you hot with anger. Not with anything else, oh no, no. You don’t even remember that boy's name if you are honest. You are only able to recall the burning hate in your heart. Ugh, fuck you, Kakashi - lookalike. 

“You shouldn’t eat sweets before the match, Osamu, Rintarou,” you suddenly hear the voice of Kita. You lift your head and there he is, your robo - dad, as fantastic as ever. 

You smile at him instantly, losing focus on the cat. Osamu, who was trying to open a pack of pocky, drops your fantastic stick sneak at the ground in fear. You don’t cry, but you are close to doing so. Rintarou slowly places his jelly sticks back at the bench. 

“You will feel nauseous,” Shinsuke is merciless, his tone cold and king-like.

If you think about it, Shinsuke is the only person you can call king and mean it like a compliment. He would be such a wonderful king. Gee, he should go for the Prime Minister’s position. You don’t know a person who wouldn’t vote for him. 

Huh. Maybe you should just call him Prime Minister instead of the king. That sounds much more serious, right? 

“Hi, hi, Shinsuke,” you swing your legs excitedly, while the three idiots try to not cower in fear at your captain, “Do you like caramel? I hope you! I bought Caramel Pepsi for you, but that’s okay if you don’t like it.” 

You reach to the pile of your snacks, abandoning your plans of drawing Socracat, and take the said drink. You offer it to him with an unsure smile. 

“I enjoy it very much. Thank you, [Name],” he accepts easily enough, his lips ever so slightly raised at you, before he turns to the rest of your friends, “Rintarou, Osamu, Atsumu, you should return to the practicing.” 

The three groans around the gym, but they are silenced by the sharp gaze of Shinsuke near instantly. Osamu gives you a quick kiss on the head before he starts dragging his twin. Atsumu screams because Osa doesn’t take him by the arm or hand. No, he grasps his leg, tipping from the crouch to the floor.

“You jerk!” shrieks your friend, as he tries to kick Osamu with his free leg, “This is why nobody likes you!” 

“They like me more than they like you anyway.” 

Osamu can take Atsumu only a few meters before the older twin finally succeeds at getting him to tumble. He falls to the ground and before you can react, he launches himself into his twin.

Murder will happen today, you suppose. But who is going to kill who? You are not the only one left wondering. Aran, always the responsible one, tries to separate them, while the rest of the team starts a circle around them, clapping and screaming their names. 

You cackle.

“You as well, Rintarou.”

Huh. You shift your gaze. Your very lazy friend didn’t move much, but that’s something you expected out of him. Though, unexpectedly, his laziness triumphs the death glare of Shinsuke. 

“Give me a second, Kita - san,” he tells him, confidently, surprising you. As for Shinsuke gaze

Kita looks to him, and then to you. It takes a moment, but he seems to sense some sort of determination from Rin because he finally nods and turns around to the rest of the team. Yeah, he is probably going to do something about it. 

Wait. 

Rin is still here. He places his jelly sticks in the pocket and then takes off his jacket next to your snacks before he moves so he can look you straight into your eyes.

You blink at him, trying to suppress the urge to tilt your head. What’s wrong? Did something happen? He probably wants his money back instead of taking it in jelly sticks, huh? 

“Something I wanted to ask,” he eventually starts. Oh, that has to be interesting. You shift your position, sitting a little bit comfortable. Something glints in Rin’s eye, as he slowly opens his mouth, “Pretty girl?”

Ay-aya-aya-ay! You shriek, not caring for how stupid you will look for doing that. No, no, just not again. You cover your face in your hands, refusing to look at him or anything. You were not ready. Scratch that. You are not ready. Now or never. Why is he asking? Why is he calling you that? He is joking with you, right? He has to! 

“You don’t care about being called cute or adorable,” he continues, showing no mercy. Where is your friendship? Where is the loyalty he displayed before? “Feel uncomfortable about it?”

 _Uncomfortable_? Understatement of the decade, if not the century. You are dying at those words. Literally dying. You need a last will and a grave for, like, yesterday. He is just hurting you more by calling you by this _nickname_ again. 

“N - nobody called me that before,” you mutter into your palms, still refusing to look up at him, “N - not u - used to it.” 

Who is used to being called _a Pretty girl_ anyway? _Cute_ or _adorable_ is one thing. Even Osamu’s _the most beautiful person in the world_ is somehow different. It’s comforting, soothing. He describes you like that, just like you think about him as an angel. But. Being named _Pretty girl_ feels like you are _h - hit on_. You, being hit on. By Rin. 

Yeah, like not gonna happen, dude, you know it. So why can't you help being so, so flustered about it? 

“Can’t use it then. Depressing,” you hear him sighing deeply, “Everything is depressing in life, I guess.”

You feel his hand on your head and he ruffles your hair gently, just like Osamu or Atsumu would. Somehow it’s a little bit different, though. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s his palm, maybe it’s the way he moves his finger. It’s strange, unfamiliar, but also comforting. The touch is fleeting and delicate, but it makes your heart race with embarrassment. 

“Not you, though, pretty girl.” 

You hide in your palms ever further. That’s, that’s, that’s - what does it even mean?! Is he saying you are too happy? That you should try better to show your disregard to life? You can, only when your heart is not trying to explode.

Pretty girl. Pretty girl. _Pretty girl_. 

Those words will haunt you in the dream tonight. Nightmares even. Ugh. You wish the meteor would come out of the sky and kill you. 

“Hey, RinRin, are you bullying [Name]?” comes suddenly the taunting voice of Atsu, and you hear something coming swishing nearby, “Come here before my serve lands on your stupid face!”

 _Saved_ from the embarrassment of the lifetime by Atsumu. When did the two of them even stop fighting? No matter, you guess. You will have to thank him later, but right now? You are going to hug your knees and try to disappear. 

* * *

You don’t disappear, though. No matter how much you wish to. The embarrassment fades eventually, and you are able to shyly raise your head only to be greeted by the incoming apocalypse. 

The door opens and what you deduce is Shiratorizawa’s team enters. They bow before entry as if they were guests, not a competing team. Awkward. Just so, so awkward. At least twins are not fighting, or nothing stupid is happening, you guess.

Shiratorizawa’s uniforms are cute. Cuter even than the one that last school, AobaSomething, wore. They are purple. Purple, the color of the kings, huh? Fits for powerhouse school, you guess. Not to talk about how lovely purple with white looks. Now, they should add black to their repertoire and you would think about changing schools. Like, you like your maroon, black and white. It’s classy, yeah, but also, it’s a little bit cliche. What are you, Snow White? 

_Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony._ Yeah, get lost, brothers Grimms. More like _Sweatpants as white as a volleyball net, jackets as red as Burgundy’s last king’s blood, t-shirts as black as their characters._

You try to look for Waka among the crowd, but your eyes fall instead on the man at the head of their procession. 

Huh. You thought Kurosu was old. The man who entered the gym is even older. Like, he has to be ancient. He definitely saw the fall of Rome, if not the birth of Christ. So, so old. How is he able to walk? You look at him for exactly three seconds, before you feel intimidated by the sheer aura he is radiating. 

Kurosu stands up and moves to greet them, Kita following in his wake. The twins use this moment of obliviousness from their teammates to quickly join you next to your bench. Your very private bench. 

Rin just straight-up lies on the floor, ignoring everything happening around, while the rest of them… Well, Akagi is sitting on Gintama’s shoulders for some reason, Ojiro tries to revive Suna, while Kosaku pokes him. Omimimimi just watches the circus impassively. You will never understand him. Like, what’s he thinking about? Does he have any emotions? You call Kita a robot, and yet Omimimimi is just as cold and strange. 

Your competitors bow before your coach, showing more politeness than the whole Inarizaki collectively possesses. Your coach is true to your traditions, and ignores them, instead of looking down at a grandfather-like figure standing near WakaWaka.

“Washijo - san, you never change, do you?” Kurosu asks, “How many years are you going to stay alive anyway?” 

“How do you even want to stay alive?” coach Oomi walks up to them, smiling brightly, “I’m not even half your age and I’m pretty much dead inside.” 

“I will drink my bleach for that,” comes the muffled voice of Suna. Ojiro quickly shakes his head at him, vehemently denying the unsaid request. 

“I’m not giving it to you!” 

Rin whimpers at that. Osamu rolls his eyes, as he sits back beside you, tugging his twin along to the bench. 

“Shut up, you insolent children,” snarls the old man, making the hair on your arms stand up, “This is exactly why you have such a hard time finding opponents, Kurosu. Are those students even any good?”

He then shifts his judging gaze at your team. 

Which is a little awkward, because you weren't caught at the best time. When is a good time for Inarizaki anyway? Never, right. You probably don’t look so intimidating, but the thought still does nothing to still your rage. Because. You feel angry. 

_How dare he?_

What a pity Waka is in a team like that. You don’t want to change school anymore. 

“Didn’t you lose a year ago to Inarizaki?” comes the mocking voice of Atsumu, “I see you ready to face defeat yet again. You know, we’re _better_ than them.”

“And I still see you don’t believe in discipline,” said the coach, looking at Atsumu with plain disgust. He is probably delirious. That’s the only reason he could look at your beautiful friend like that, “Still using tricks.” 

Atsumu doesn’t care about Roman’s glance in the slightest. He is still smiling, wordlessly provoking every member of Shiratorizawa’s team. He looks around at their faces, searching for something before his gaze finally stays on the one boy’s face.

He is ordinary for somebody on such a prestigious team, you can’t help but think venomously. Most of his teammates are tall or very muscular, but he is the slender thing, short (still taller than you, though, of course) compared to the rest of the team. His hair has to be the strangest thing about him. You notice that particular orangish color that definitely doesn’t look unnatural and start to wonder what dye he has used. You refuse to even entertain the motion he was born this way. But even if you ignore the color, you can’t ignore his bangs. Bro, that hairstyle is like, not the best decision you ever made. It has to be hard to maintain it to be so even. 

Osamu, somehow understanding it to be his cue, leans at his brother, placing his elbow at his brother’s shoulder. He follows Atsumu’s glare, sending a condescending smile to Even Bangs. Huh. 

What you understand from this behavior is that they are trying to convey something to him. What? Fuck knows. They were talking about adding pressure on somebody, right? So, they are probably saying something really rude in their telepathic link you were not invited to. At least they didn’t say it aloud as that ancient asshole did. 

You grasp the edges of the bench as you remember the old wizard’s words. So. If you start a fight, and he dies of a heart attack, does it count as murder or not? Asking for a friend. 

“Those tricks help us more than your _unrelenting power_ ever does, I think,” comes the bitchy voice of Osamu, “Are you fucking jealous?” 

You smile at that maliciously. 

“Osamu!” comes the scandalized voice of Ojiro, who abandons Suna to glare at your friend bewildered. 

“Shut up, demons, normal human beings are talking,” Kurosu finally decides to grace you with the comment, “I think you would get along with them actually, Washijo - sensei. Takes one to know one.” 

_Washijo_ , the future murder victim, snorts at that, as he proceeds to ignore them. You bite down on your lip, trying to stop yourself from growling at him. What an asshole.

“Start warming up,” he orders, before he looks to your coaches, “Let’s get this over with.” 

“Of course,” Shinsuke nods at him calmly, not showing any care for his harsh words, as he turns to Waka with a question, “Would you rather receive or serve first?” 

Among the boys of Shiratorizawa Academy, Waka is now easy to see. He looks just as yesterday, muscular and powerful, yet docile and kind. You raise your hand, waving shyly to him in greeting. 

“We are fine either way,” he replies patiently. You narrow your eyes at him, your hand stopping in the wave. Somehow, he sounds agitated, almost angry. Which doesn’t make sense. What could make him irritated? 

He doesn’t even look at you. Which is concerning, right? Maybe he finally decided to hate you. Oh god. That’s sad. You just wanted - Oh. 

His teddy bear-like eyes find yours and his lips instantly twitch up. He raises his hand, returning your gesture. You can’t help, but brighten up at that, as you start to wave again, with much more energy than before. 

This action actually causes most of Shiratorizawa’s team to look at you, which is not exactly a comfortable thing to experience. You can practically see them gossip about you, which - which - which is not nice. But you can be brave through it. Maybe. Probably not. No, not going to happen.

“Then we will be first to receive,” Kita speaks up, but you are already lost in your thoughts. 

_Warming up_ means dancing to Michael Jackson’s songs, right? Yesterday, you danced to _Thriller Night_ , so maybe you can do so to _Smooth Criminal_. After all, you and Rin committed a smooth crime. Still have to get fedoras, though.

 _Annie, are you okay?_ You hum, before looking at your friends. Osa only shakes his head, finally stopping to glare at the opposing team. You pout, bringing Tsu's attention to you. He arches his eyebrow, as he extends his hand through his twin to your face. 

“Not this time, sunshine,” he promptly boops you in the nose with his fingers, “We are here to win, you know.” 

Is he trying to achieve it by booping you? Because you are pretty sure that’s not it works, and you don’t even know this sport. You reach over to your nose, touching it hesitantly. You are just a snake and Atsumu just booped the snoot. This disgrace of your honor demands to be avenged! 

Sneaky of him. Not as sneaky, sneaky as you, the real snek, smooth snek. Without thinking much, you lean into Sam, practically laying down on his laps to reach over to blond. 

“Don’t speak about it like that,” Osa scowls, ignoring your stupid squabble, “We’re always trying to win.” 

“And you are going to win,” you answer back with utmost certainty, as you boop Atsu’s nose. There, your revenge! “There’s no other option.” 

Atsumu chuckles at you, trying to catch your hand, but you are a sneaky snake, and so, you dodge it masterfully, trying to come back to your original seat. Osamu lets you, as he is the better twin, patting your head tenderly. 

Which makes you think back to your future murder victim. Well, time to rearrange your list again. Is that even so much of a crime, if you kill a person who is probably a thousand years old? Like, that’s Count Saint - Germain’s type of shit. He is probably an evil overlord in disguise.

You narrow your eyes. 

If he is, then he is the final boss. Your ultimate enemy, the one who nobody expects. Just like Spanish Inquisition, his main weapon is surprise and fear. 

And now you crave some Monty Python. Damn you, Washijo. At least you know what you will make Osa and Tsu watch with you tonight. Or maybe something about real Spanish inquisition. 

_But_ , you shake your head gently, You have much too important matters to think about awful things that happened centuries ago. Like, Washijo being an evil overlord. That’s how it is, huh? You understand. You cracked this. You connected the dots. Well, he chose the wrong opponents. You are going about to get into dethroning him. 

If that _Washijo_ person, if that’s even his real name, is such a fucktard to your friends, he doesn’t deserve to rule this world anymore. Unrelenting force sounds like a lame way to conquer the world. Those _tricks_ , their plays, are much, much cooler than anything he can show you. And you? You just have to humiliate him. Just like they defeated Puffy yesterday, they will defeat Shiratorizawa today. You believe they can do it.

_They are going to win._

It’s that simple. 

“Look at this,” you hear Gintama’s voice and turn around, to see the rest of the team moving to you, “You sound like a proper manager, Date. Who would have thought?”

You roll your eyes, very deliberately. Is he really so bored he is going after you? Or is it his sexist side speaking aloud again? Well, one way or another, you are not going down without a fight. 

“I _am_ the proper manager, Gintama,” you flash a middle finger in his direction, “You only have to become the proper player to see it.”

Atsumu whistles slowly in appreciation of your words, while Osamu offers you his palm. You slap it gently, smiling mischievously. Gintama groans at the three of you. 

“I see you want to have more receiving drills, Hitoshi,” comments innocently Shinsuke as he returns with coaches to your side of the court. 

“And the ball spiked in your face,” comments Atsumu with his lips turned up in a smile that the devil would be proud of. 

“Make it two,” nods Osamu, copying his twin’s expression. You cackle. 

Gintama sweatdrops at that, throwing his hands ahead of himself in an attempt to protect himself from all of you. What a fool. He can’t escape. Not now, not ever. 

“W - why are you ganging up on me?!” he shouts anyway, but that doesn’t deter the three of you in the slightest. You swiftly do the same face as twins, making his nightmares come true. Probably. 

“You deserve it,” cheerfully adds Akagi, not caring for his friend’s mental wellbeing in the slightest. Kosaku, standing beside him, nods, “You know you do, Gin!” 

This is where Gintama draws the line, it seems. He hastily puts Akagi in the chokehold, ignoring you all for the moment in order to focus on the shorter boy. Michinari laughs happily. 

What is with them and choking anyway? Is that some kind of, you bashfully fluster, _kink_? Is he liking choking a little too much? Not to judge, of course, but that’s well, hypocritical, of somebody who dared to call your relationship with twins weird. 

“Dad, Michinari and Gintama are fighting again,” Atsumu teases them mercilessly, “Oh, are they going through a divorce?” 

They are married? You blink. No, they don’t have the same last names. 

“Not surprised. Who would want Gintama anyway?” Osamu rolls his eyes and pats you gently, before zooming into your snacks, “I’m hungry.”

“You are always hungry, SamSam,” you point up with a smile. He smacks his lips in dismay, before showing you his sad, puppy eyes. It’s probably hard for him to just look at your snacks, but you have to be strong! Kita said no. 

“I don’t care about that,” yup, here he is, not caring a bit about your friend’s misery, Inarizaki’s Prime Minister, “Tell it to your mother.” 

“I disowned all of them years ago,” Momjiro shakes his head before he understands what words Kita has just spoken, “Wait, what do you mean mother? Hey, Shinsuke!” 

“I hate this fucking family.” 

What a mood, Rin. 

Oh, god, Rin.

 _Pretty girl,_ he called you. And you s - still don’t understand it at all. You don’t want to understand it. Yeah, let’s just… ignore it. It was probably a fragment of your imagination as well. 

Haha.

Let’s focus on something different.

Like SamSam and snacks. 

You fidget with your too-long sleeve.

Should you? You look to Osamu, before deciding you should. Rules are meant to be broken and sneaking him a little piece will not hurt anybody, you suppose. Just a tiny bit. 

You reach over to your mountain, taking one of the candy bars. Your randomly chosen snack turns to be Kit - Kat Matcha. Of course, it's matcha flavored one. Is anything better than matcha in this world? 

“If we were family, I would put you all to adoption already,” Oomi smiles at you all, “Now, go change into your uniforms.”

* * *

Finally. I tho this moment would never arrive, but yeah, Shiratorizawa vs Inarizaki is happening in the next chapter. Still not sure for who POV I will go for, hm~ In this chapter, we have more Blueberry, more Rin, more MC being stupid, and too many snacks. Also more of Avril Lavigne. IDK, her songs just fit into this fanfic so much.

Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading :)


	27. Inarizaki vs Shiratorizawa: Woe to the vanquished.

“I hope both of them lose.” 

Hajime cannot even bring himself to answer. Oikawa’s trashiness sometimes shouldn’t be commented on, he knows it well enough, but there’s part of him that maybe, just maybe, agrees with him. That’s aggravating. Hajime can’t help the grimace forming on his face.

Ushiwaka - wait, wait, he means Ushijima. _Damn it all,_ he thinks as the scowls on his face deepen, _I spend way too much time with Oikawa._ He meant that _Ushijima_ may be the person he wants to defeat the most, but he knows that the wing spiker is not a malicious person. At least not intentionally. He can’t say the same about the Miya twins. 

He is pretty sure their personalities are worse than Oikawa. Nobody should be allowed to have a worse personality than _Oikawa Tooru._

“That’s not how it works, Shittykawa,” he finally decides on saying, crossing his arms on his chest, “Somebody has to win in the end.”

They may wish for it as much as they can. It will change nothing.

It’s not like that matters. This match, he means. It is not even so significant. It’s only a practice match, there are no consequences for losing. Nothing will change if Inarizaki loses. Nothing will change if Shiratoriza loses. Nothing changed when they lost. For him, that’s an excuse, a feeble justification he tries to persuade himself with.

He curls his lips in dismay. Yesterday’s match was real. It was no nightmare that haunted them, no illusion created by their minds. Their loss happened and _hurt_. No words will make it better. There is only one thing they can - _train_ more. And their coach canceled today's practice! Going to the Shiratorizawa vs Inarizaki match seemed like the second best thing to do.

There is bitterness at the edge of his tongue and poison in his throat, trying to cloud his mind. He knows defeat. He knows how it tastes - It’s like ash, remains of a fire that burned too brightly, too fast. Were they too confident? Were they too conceited? 

The twins were right. They never made it to the final stage. They have never gone against this nation’s finest before. Maybe, just maybe, there is a reason for that. Maybe, just maybe, Hajime is simply too _weak_. _What sort of ace - ?!_

No. He can’t think like that. They still have a chance against Shiratorizawa. They still can get to nationals. They still can challenge Inarizaki. _They still can_ \- 

There is part of him that thinks that they will never be able to contest Demons of the Court. That they will never win against them. He hates his own weakness, his lack of belief, his _inability_. He hates it. 

“I know,” Oikawa snaps back, his voice harsh for once, not coated in sugar-false cheerfulness that Hajime hates so much, “But maybe one of them will trip on the ground at least.” 

“You are such a crappy guy,” he snaps back, though his words are lacking the real bite. This is another thing he can't help but agree with Oikawa at that too. Though, he would never confess to that aloud. That sort of pettiness is for crappy people like his childhood friend, not for him.

“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa reacts dramatically, throwing his hands in the air and gesturing exaggeratedly. Hajime rolls his eyes, already tired, “Don’t tell me you don’t wish for the same!” 

Hajime doesn't react to that taunt in the slightest, or at least he tries. Oikawa is surprisingly observant and, of course, he doesn't have trouble with finding pink on his cheeks, the bastard. The wing spiker shakes his head, returning his gaze to the court. The day he agrees with Oikawa is the day Hajime is going to die.

“Shut up, the match is about to start.” 

Oikawa shuts up, finally, though he still has to have his petty victory. The brown-haired teen looks away and pouts visibly, making the girls behind them _coo_. Of course, the girls have even followed him there. Hajime really, really doesn't like him, damn and he doesn't care about his dramatics in the slightest. Instead, he focuses on the positive things: like the fact that he decided to be quiet for the first time in his life.

The match starts shortly after, and it does so with Shiratorizawa serving. Their first server is Kawanishi, the scrawny middle blocker who was always a hassle, though never as much as _Tendou_. _No one_ is ever so troublesome as the Guess Monster thought their coach using time and again the same strategy comes in the close second. Ushijima, as always, is placed just opposite next to the opponent's server. Shiratorizawa never changes, which in theory, should make it easy to play against.

In theory. Hajime furrows his brows, the old loathing filling his bones. Theory, without a question, is nothing like the reality he found himself in.

Kawanishi is a decent server, he found it on his own skin, but Inarizaki libero picks it easily and sends it straight to the Miya in a pass Hajime begrudgingly appreciates. The said twin, the blond setter, sets it to Ojiro Aran, one of the best spikers in the country. He saw how he spikes with power that is eerily reminiscent of Ushijima and that's what earns Inarizaki the first point of the game.

“He makes me so angry,” Oikawa comments dryly with his lips firmly pressed into the thin line, “Just like at Mister Friend and his stupid perfect toss.” 

He doesn't answer as the audience stands up in the commotion, cheering, and calling the spiker’s name. Since when do practice matches create such commotion that stands are full and booming? Hajime swears they look much busier now than on _Miyagi Prefecture’s Qualifiers_.

The first server on the Inarizaki’s side is Miya Atsumu. It’s not a surprising move, as twins are probably their best and most dangerous severs. The blond's serves can be only described as a lethal, fast weapon that shatters the opposite team in its wake. The films on the internet don't do it justice, no matter how much of them Iwaizumi has seen.

He notices the cocky grin on Miya's face before it disappears as the setter tosses the ball into the air. It comes down on Shiratorizawa's side with overwhelming speed and the silence from before - and the gym was perfectly silent, unnaturally so, the threats of the boy before the entry fresh on everybody’s mind - disappears as deafening applause echoes around the room. 

What sort of rule is that, anyway? 

“Can’t believe Shiratorizawa’s cheerleaders were actually quiet,” he mumbles absentmindedly, trying not to wince seeing the twin start cheering, looking way too damn proud of himself, “The security threat had to really scare them.” 

The one who answers him is not Tooru, but the girl with bright, blond hair sitting in the row before them. She turns around her shoulder. He cannot help but think that her voice is way too serious for the girl who looked to be so much younger than him.

“Professionals have standards,” she clicks her tongue, throwing a disapproving glance towards Oikawa's fangirls. He follows her gaze and finds them, to his surprise, doing everything but looking in the direction of the blonde, “As if we would let somebody talk during Miya - san’s serve,” she comments sharply, her hawk-like eyes trained to the girls, " _Again_."

The threat hangs in the air for the minute, before the girl next to him, one wearing sunglasses and top-hat, cuts in.

“Sara-chan, I thought you preferred Osamu-san,” she whispers softly, avoiding looking at Hajime. The blonde girl whips her head to her companion, “You are the president of _his_ Fanclub, so, you know, I - well, I thought."

He feels irritation and glares into Oikawa, who tries to whistle innocently on the side, averting him completely. _Of course, they have fucking fan clubs_ , comes to his mind, _Are they actually trying to be as annoying as possible, or does it all come naturally?_

“I’m not so biased, Rui-chan,” the blonde shakes her head, smiling softly at the girl beside her. She nearly loses her hat, so vicious is the way she moves, “I would die for all members of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. They are all the best and deserve the best!"

“That’s our President!” 

Hajime starts to dislike Inarizaki even more if that’s possible. Oikawa looks at them for the second, ready to throw in some cringy line, so he raises his hand, and his companion is silenced as Miya Atsumu throws the ball in the air again. 

Just like in the match yesterday, he took six steps before performing spike serve. Just like in the match yesterday, his opponents are left in scrambles in order to receive it. _Figuring Tsumu’s steps is one thing_ , said the grey-haired twin to them, eyes glaring holes into Oikawa, _Stopping them is another, pretty boy._

It comes straight at their new player, the one Hajime didn’t play against. First-year, probably, who is not able to react in time as the ball hits his arms before landing out of the bounds. It’s 3 - 0 for Inarizaki and Ushijima didn’t even have a chance to touch the ball. Miya Atsumu moves again to serve, his face devoid of the mocking smile Hajime came to associate with the blond twin. His blood churns violently in his veins.

They weren’t serious against them at all. 

Four steps. Jump floater. For a moment, Iwaizumi thinks it will be out of bounds, but it hits just the end line. The people near him explode in cheers. 

“He is in good condition,” he comments, grimacing, “Better than yesterday.”

“Damn you, _Mister Friend_ ,” Oikawa answers, leaning forward, “Damn you and your stupid _talent_.” 

It’s really disheartening to hear Oikawa talking about talent as if he didn’t possess any of it himself _again_. As if the setter’s relationship with Kageyama is not bad enough as it is. As if the situation from middle school happens all over again. Inarizaki’s team is bringing the worst out of both of them. 

“Nice murder!” the melodious voice of the girl echoes in the gym. He hears people squeal proud proclamations, claiming _how cute_ she is, mimicking Oikawa’s words. Hajime’s lips twitch. He doesn’t know if he should frown at such disregard towards the sport or smile at the endearing way she behaves.

He doesn’t know how to feel about their manager. He doesn’t blame her for what her childhood friends did, not truly. She is not the one responsible for their actions, she is not the one who controls them, and neither she is the one who provoked them. That last dubious honor belongs to Oikawa.

Seriously, what is wrong with him? He knows that Watanabe ended up their relationship with him just after their practice match with Karasuno, complaining about how he loves volleyball more than he could ever love her, and that broke Oikawa's heart. But the truth is if she ever entertained the idea she would mean more than the sport they trained for since childhood, she was a fool. Oikawa still cared for her and that used to be enough.

Used to be.

Hajime knows Tooru, knows him probably more than he likes to admit and so, he knows, he knows, okay? Oikawa was in love with her and when Watanabe Hana broke up with him, and part of Oikawa became broken as well.

Since then he talked with his fangirls, even more than normal, practically flirting with everybody wearing a skirt, which would be annoying if that was not so pathetic. He started showing late for the practices, gushing excitedly about this or that pretty girl he just scored a number from. Oikawa even dared to skip school in order to go on dates, the idiot. So yeah, he didn’t really care when he returned again from gods-only-know-where rambling about this absolutely gorgeous girl that he had to meet again.

The truth is, Hajime wouldn’t even notice her, as little as she was, were it not for Shigeru’s excited cry of, "They have a female manager?!"

His eyes instinctually trained on her and well, she was not really somebody he would call Oikawa's type, and gods, he hates that he knows his type. The Inarizaki's manager was just so _cute,_ but more like a little sister rather than romantic interested. With her short posture and doe-like eyes that shined brightly, Hajime couldn't help but feel the urge to protect her and what didn't help was the fact that she was probably looking even shorter than she actually was, as she tried unsuccessfully to hide behind Inarizaki’s ace with the Miya twins and their middle blocker. 

He remembers he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand who actually tries to be sneaky and argue at the same time. He shook the confusion off, though. It was curious, but nothing world-shattering. Nothing that should impact their game, nothing that should change their strategy.

Then Oikawa had to open his damn mouth. 

He wanted to roll his eyes at that, but before he could react came the scream and insults, curses so foul that Hajime blinked with confusion, mostly because he didn’t expect them from the mouth of the girl he just called _a little sister_ in his mind. 

Oikawa didn’t care, because he is Oikawa. Before he could think to react and to stop him, the idiot has already moved forward, but it wasn't the worst. The worst thing came when the girl's eyes met those of his friend. The moment Inarizaki’s manager saw him so close, she looked absolutely _terrified_ , making Hajime feel so guilty. 

What was the bastard thinking would happen? He probably wasn't, that's the worst.

“She looks so cute today,” his friend's whines reminds him where he is. The loud complaints provoke several death glares in his direction. Oikawa doesn’t care about that, because he is _Oikawa_ , “It’s not fair, Iwa-chan. It should be illegal.” 

“It should be illegal how stupid you are.”

Would he get so angry if that was his childhood friend? He doesn’t know. But Iwaizumi doesn’t think the twins' reaction was appropriate. They took it too far. _Way too far._

The humiliating loss debilitated the team. That cut deep, deeper than he wants to admit. He doesn’t - he doesn’t feel as confident as before. He dreads the moment he will have to stand on the court again. What if his palm goes to spike the ball, but it is stopped time and again? The light eyes of the middle blocker, looking at him with mocking glint. The ace of opposing time, unstoppable force. Miya Osamu, raising his middle finger after his twin spikes the ball set by not a setter, only wings spiker. 

Oikawa is the best setter out here, that’s the truth. Hajime Iwaizumi is not the best wing spiker in Japan. He is not the best in Miyagi. Is he - is he the only thing holding him back from reaching the Nationals, just like Ushijima always claimed? 

He shakes his head, trying to focus on something different, more trivial, easier. Meeting them again and getting banned in the restaurant they frequented since they were second years at Kitagawa Daiichi hurts as well, but that’s the pain he can live through. 

After all, it’s Oikawa’s fault as well.

“I suddenly feel the desire to punch you.” 

“You are so aggressive, Iwa-chan, it's nearly barbaric.” 

Hajime slaps him in the back of the neck. Oikawa in the response, whines like the child he is before they both shift their focus on the court, where Miya Atsumu’s fifth serve is finally received. It’s not a clear pass, by any means, but Ushijima doesn’t need it to be. The ball is set by Shiratorizawa’s setter at least. 

Predictably, Ushijima is the one who moves forward. 

“There comes the Southpaw,” Oikawa murmurs quietly, concentrating on the scene before him, “Now, how will Inarizaki react?” 

Hajime can’t say anything bad about his form, his technique, or his anything. It’s _perfect_. It always is. Ushijima is the _cannon_. He cannot be stopped by any wall. He cannot be distracted. He cannot be tricked. As long as the ball is set, Ushijima Wakatoshi will learn the point. He is nothing short of a perfect wing spiker. 

Sometimes, on the dark days that come after every defeat, he thinks he understands what Oikawa sees in Kageyama, no matter how much misguided his friend’s hatred is. Ushijima is the True Ace. There is nobody on the court he hates more. There is nobody on the court he admires more. There is nobody on the court he is more jealous of. 

The ball falls, untouched. The score changes. 5 - 1. Shiratorizawa is coming back. The stadium explodes again. 

Oikawa leans in, and Hajime follows him reluctantly, trying to decipher the atmosphere on Inarizaki’s side of the court. He sweatdrops. _Trying to decipher_? It’s really easy to actually notice what is going on. They are definitely not scared or intimidated in the slightest.

“Damn, that was so _cool_!” Miya Atsumu cries looking at Ushiwaka with stars in eyes, “The southpaw, Samu! The southpaw is so cool!” 

He doesn’t hear what Miya Osamu answers, but the twins don’t break into the fight this time, actually looking to be agreeing on something, which is definitely a new thing as far as he can tell. The only thing they actually seemed to agree on so far was the fact that their childhood friend should be kept away from Oikawa. 

Surprisingly, he found himself agreeing with that particular statement, even if that came from them. He knows very well that Oikawa's personality is garbage and the idiot can't even see how much she didn't like him. Or worse, maybe he can see it and it makes him want to pursue her more. That's the worst thing about this trashy personality of his: with Oikawa, you can never truly know. 

Grimacing, he returns to watching the game. The dominance of Shiratorizawa from this moment forward is easy to see. He wouldn’t exactly say Inarizaki is much lacking, they are a step behind Shiratorizawa in sheer power. 

They are able to receive Ushijima’s kills, just not all of them. They are able to direct them. He still scores. He always does. 

24 - 26.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel rewarding. Hajime should be happy those brats lost at least their first set, but it also feels strange. Not in the strange way their plays were yesterday. They don’t hold back, but it’s like they are not playing to the best of their abilities. 

The first set ends in Shiratorizawa’s favor. Inarizaki doesn’t look too bothered by that, though their manager looks to be close to tears, which makes him wonder if their predictions are actually right. Would she look so spooked if that was the truth? 

“She even looks more adorable when she is scared,” Oikawa whines, leaning forward. Of course, the bastard has only one thing on his mind and that thing is girls. He grimaces, “That is so not fair! How can she be even cuter? That shouldn’t be possible. Laws of the universe are being destroyed right now, Iwa - chan.” 

“You are such a shitty guy," he answers, provoking an outraged cry that is ignored by Iwaizumi. 

Starting the next set, their _middle blocker with the look of dead fish_ changes his position in the rotation.

“They don’t want to pair him up with Tendou,” he muses aloud, and for the moment he swears the girl nearby, the same one from before, looks like she wants to say something before changing her mind. 

“Nobody wants to be paired against _Guess Monster_ ,” Oikawa comments instead, grimacing visibly, “He is irritating.” 

_Who on Shiratorizawa’s team is not irritating Oikawa Tooru anyway?_ He rolls his eyes, before focusing back on the match. Miya Atsumu is serving again. Four steps, he notices and nods as the float jumper comes. Shiratorizawa is able to dig it, sending it flying toward their setter in a nice receive. Their setter tosses it up to the first-year spiker, but the spike is received and hurled towards the blond twin. 

Hajime's brow arches up as he looks at what is happening on the court. Is Inarizaki's setter setting on the first touch? It looks like that, as the ball goes straight to one of their hitters, the second twin. It’s blocked up by Kawanishi, but Inarizaki’s libero is able to keep it afloat. 

The rally is long and merciless, and Iwaizumi feels tired just looking at it. It doesn’t feel like a practice match. Not for the audience. Not for teams. It goes around for a while until the ball is set to Ushijima again. Hajima can nearly see it ending. Ushijima’s hand, coming in with this ridiculous power, slowly coming towards the hands of the blocker. It ends. The ball ricochets. Then come the referee’s whistle and his pointed hand, granting the point to Inarizaki. 

Iwaizumi blinks in shock as he comes to understand that _the_ Ushijima was blocked. 

_Completely shut down_.

“Nice murder, RinRin!” 

“Go, go, Rintarou!” 

“Let’s go, Ina High!”

“Nice kill!” 

“Hey, what was that sloppy spike of yours anyway, Samu? Playing scrub?” 

“Fuck off, Tsumu. Your set was shitty in the first place.” 

“What did you say?!” 

The world doesn’t stop. The stands cheers. He shares a glance with Tooru. Ushijima is human. He makes mistakes, they know that. Their setter makes mistakes as well. Both of those facts can be used and utilized during a game. But there were no mistakes in their plays from before. They were perfect. 

Ushiwaka was stopped by one blocker.

_Ushijima Wakatoshi was stopped by one blocker._

The monstrous force, unstoppable strength, that one they were never able to stop is stopped. It’s hard to breathe.

* * *

Osamu knows his brother. 

It's not something he is proud of.

He doesn’t have to look back to Atsumu to understand he will go for the spike serve. He doesn’t have to look to know it will go straight to the first-year, the one who messed up a moment before. He knows that the boy's receives suck, so even if he digs it, the Shiratorizawa will end with a not ideal set. He knows that the opposing setter will not send it to Ushijima. Not after Rin just blocked him. Not when he will worry about his mental state. 

He will want to give him a moment to think, to relax, to evaluate. And so, with those thoughts, Shirabu's faith in his wing spiker, in his ace, will crumble. It’s what Tsumu is waiting for.

The thing about playing with Atsumu Miya: he is the most demanding person on the court. So when he shared a glance with Osamu before the match, he knew exactly what the idiot wanted to do. And of course, he has to follow him after him or the brat will complain and complain until his ears drop. Tsumu always expects Osamu to just go along with his stupid plan.

He hates it with every fiber of his being. 

He understands all of his brother's plan, but he is not really proud of it. It’s hard to not understand the other person when you cannot get rid of him for more than an hour. Atsumu is so annoying. He is a liar. He is a thief. He is stupid. He is whimsy. He is moody. He cannot do fuck by himself. He lies. He steals. He would definitely die of starvation without Osamu because he can't cook for shit. 

And the worst offense of them all: Tsumu is his brother. He is always there, no matter how much Samu wishes he would leave him alone. 

When he was younger, his brother used to be such an awful crybaby, and who was the one to protect him? Osamu, because really, if not him, then who? Atsumu is his brother and the only person allowed to make him cry is him. Not that he cries much those times, the fucker. 

The little shit of his brother used to, rather than wait patiently, always follow him, getting bruised in the fights as well. When Tsumu finally stopped crying, he was the first to come to their defense. 

Always. 

Always is the word that defines them, probably. They came to the world together, and they will leave it together, he supposes. It doesn't make things easier, not when Tsumu could play volleyball forever, while Osamu - well, Osamu sometimes think there is more to life than volleyball. He doesn't dare to tell it to Tsumu, though. He knows his stupid brother way too well. He understands that Tsumu would do something childish and stupid like always does if he heard that. 

“You’re twins,” their mother used to say, “You will always have each other.” 

_Always, always, always._

He used to think that meant he was always going to _only_ have Atsumu in his life, which would suck a lot, but he was wrong. He was saved all those years ago from this awful fate by the girl with the [color] eyes. A little girl in a braid looked at them with spice dancing in her gaze, daring and brave, and saved him. [Name] came into their lives, sweeter than honey, more beautiful than the most intricate cake design, smelling more alluring than cinnamon. 

She was brighter than anything he saw before. She still is.

She belongs to him, just like Tsumu does.

[Name] is a little bit like Tsumu, he supposes. She's always here, always ready to defend, and fight, just like his brother. But she's never truly following. Rather, she is the trailblazer, the pathfinder, the one who leads them, the navigator in the darkness, their ever-glowing light that nearly got extinguished. Comparing her to Tsumu is like comparing trash to a diamond. 

Her hand on tugging on his shirt, eyes nearly full of tears, the small whispers that break his heart. He couldn't look at her like that. He didn't want to see her like that, broken and bruised, just like all those years ago. 

If the thought of them losing makes her so afraid, so lost, so sad, then there was only one way to fix that. He took her hand and squeezed, silently promising everything she could ever wish for as he shared a glance with Tsumu. They argue about a lot of things. Not about [Name]. Not when she is like this. 

There is no way they are going to lose. 

Not if he and Tsumu are playing together. Not when their childhood friend is watching, clasping her delicate hands as if in prayer, wishing for their victory with an angelic smile, cheering them on with her divine voice. 

He doesn’t think he would be able to look into [Name]’s eyes and see tears again, so he is not going to. She wants them to win. He wants to wing. Atsumu wants to win. Everybody on their team wants to win. It's that simple. 

So, he takes Atsumu’s toss and makes it his own. Aran scores it without difficulty, their team’s ace is as cool as ever. One point to their side. 

He glares at their setter. 

They will take another one too. 

_(“We start with Suna and Omimimimi -_

_“ - my name is Omimi, Atsumu - “_

_“ - slowly blocking Ushiwaka’s spikes. All the spiker’s points belong to setter’s as well after all - “_

_“ - This is why nobody likes you, Tsumu -”_

_“ - and then, it’s your time to shine, you jerk. Don’t behave like total scrub and toss sloppily now! See, sunshine? We have everything planned.”_

_“You don’t need to worry about a thing, [Name].”_

_“That idiot is right, you know. Lost set? Who cares? It's already in the past."_

_“And we don’t need things like memories.”)_

* * *

“That’s my Sam-chan!” 

Her voice is so irritating. He curses lowly under his breath, feeling annoyance spiking in his veins. She cannot simply shut up for a damn minute. It drives him up to the wall. He didn’t think anything could annoy him more than the sound of not properly adjusted piano, and yet, here she was, proving him wrong. 

As if she was mocking him, she giggles. He wants to punch something so much. Everything is funny to her, it seems. Everything is worth a stupid comment. He wishes she could just her mouth and be silent for the moment. So loud. So graceless. And his friend, Ushijima himself, _smiled_ at her. 

Wakatoshi is not exactly most people’s person. He doesn’t smile much, not even around him and Satori, people who knew him for the longest time. And yet, he still remembers how Ushijima’s lips curled ever so slightly when she was spewing out nonsense. Eita really doesn’t understand what exactly endeared her out of all people to him so fast. 

She is a foul-mouthed brat that doesn’t possess an ounce of common sense or intelligence. She is rude and unpleasant. If she was at least attractive, maybe he could understand - but the damn brat is small and wears way too large, ungrateful clothes. She can’t brush her hair properly. Her _eyes_ \- 

Oh, he hates her eyes the most. 

They are the only thing he can compliment and that makes them so infuriating, so much more despicable. They are glimmering with color so pure, so enchanting, so tantalizing it brings back the old memories of his past. He nearly can see it right before his eyes: The smell of the old book French Braid had taken from her brother’s room and sneaked outside of her house. The voice so powerful the whole room trembled. The smile so dazzling that his heart beats faster even now, years from that moment. 

The color of her eyes doesn’t belong to her. It belongs to somebody else. To a better person than she could ever hope to be. 

He drums his fingers on his arm, trying to regain his composure. It doesn’t help. Of course, it doesn’t. She giggles again, the sound so irksome, he wants to swear he is going to punch _her_. 

Eita despises that she makes him wistful. Nostalgia and regret, forgotten a long time ago, awaken again, just because some stupid girl cannot stay silent. He jams his fingers into his skin with even more power. He takes a slow, deep breath and tries his hardest to ignore Inarizaki’s manager, focusing on the game. 

He narrows his eyes on the court, his palm still digging into his arm painfully, trying to suppress her voice. 

It seems that their opponents finally warmed up, their reactions faster and way stronger. Inarizaki is using the second twin as a setter more and more, tricking them with their every play. Setting on the first touch, only for it to become a simple bump. Constantly shifting their positions, their plays, their _everything_ to the thrilled shrills of the manager. 

Does _she_ even know what they are doing? No, ignore her, ignore her, ignore her. 

He swears their own teammates have trouble following twins sometimes. Their strategy is even more tricky, more dangerous, more unpredictable than the one they used in the last time Eita played against them. He grimaces. That’s alright, though. Shiratorizawa doesn’t need anything like that as long as they have Wakatoshi. Stopping him once or twice doesn’t mean stopping him entirely. All of Shiratorizawa’s team knows it, so there shouldn’t be a problem.

Why is there a problem then? 

He drums his fingers again, childishly wishing his fingers could feel the cool keys of his piano instead of his own skin. Playing always calmed him down the best. 

Shirabu doesn’t use Wakatoshi to score as much as he should, Eita realizes. Why? It’s not like their ace will break if he is stopped. He knows that being stopped once is not a big deal. Their opponent is on the national level. Of course, they would be stopped. It doesn’t mean they will lose. 

“RinRin, their eight is shit at receiving,” Atsumu Miya says as their middle blocker, Suna, moves to serve. 

Number eight. They mean Goshiki. He rolls his eyes at the easy way Inarizaki is able to comment on such things without any shame or discomfort. Crawling under the skin of people, making them uncomfortable. That’s how they play. But this will not work on Tsutomu. He is not somebody who would break so easily.

“Got it, menace number two,” comes the lazy answer of their middle blocker as he moves to the end line. 

“I can’t believe even the opposing team can see it!” the coach Washijo's scream makes shivers run through his spin, “Be better, Goshiki!” 

“I’m sorry!” Goshiki shouts earnestly, “I will work harder to improve and become an ace better than even Ushijima-san!” 

Suna sighs audibly, before tossing the ball into the air the moment the whistle comes. Goshiki is able to pick it up, even if it’s not exactly a clear pass, sending it to Shirabu, who is - 

_What exactly is he doing?_

Eita has a lot of feelings towards Shirabu. Most of them are not positive, but as much as he dislikes the younger setter, they are still members of the same team. They are still teammates. He still cares about the brat, somewhat. 

He exhales again, composing himself, as he observes the younger boy more closely. He finds easily that there is something off in his posture. His shoulders are slouching, his eyes downcast. Something is wrong with his movements. They are stiff, deprived of fluidity. Shirabu is more consistent than Eita in his setting. More collected. And yet, right now, he doesn’t look like that infatuating junior Semi knows and detests, but a little kid caught in something way out of his depth. 

If he didn’t know better, he would call him nervous. The rhythm of his drumming fingers changes, and it takes him a moment to recognize that he moves them in the rhythm of the old tune, the one that never failed to make her shout out in joy. Shirabu doesn’t get nervous, not this cocky underclassman of his, and while Eira wouldn’t the way he moves incorrect, it's certainly strange. He behaves simply strange, which is probably the reason why the coach is staying quiet.

Shirabu sets, not being able to hear his questions. The tossed ball is spiked by Satori, but Inarizaki’s libero digs it up to Osamu Miya. Then, it promptly spiked by his twin. He grimaces, as their opponents score once more. 

The set continues. Ushijima still scores. He is still the core of their offense. Satori is still as annoying to the other team as ever. Hayato is able to pick up the ball. But Kawanishi plays to the tune of a middle blocker, earning him scoldings from their coach. Goshiki is unable to pick up Miya’s serves. Aran Ojiro’s spikes are brutal and hard to stop. 

It's easy to feel the momentum changing. 

The rallies become longer, more exhausting. Mistakes happen more and more. Wakatoshi spikes out of the bounds. Inarizaki’s Omimi makes a net foul. It’s something normal, expected. Things like that happen in every match, because no player, no matter how talented, can be perfect. The problem is something different as Shirabu moves to toss again and the ball slips out of his hands and lands on the ground.

The whistle reverberates around them. The second set ends with Inarizaki’s win after a long deuce. 29 - 31. Ending with a mistake. He raises his hand to his cheek, already knowing what is coming next.

“Shirabu! If you can’t hold the ball, then what are you doing on the court?!” 

_Or he was staying quiet. Washijo - sensei never stays quiet for too long._ There is sweat dripping down Eita's forehead as his coach continues to scream. Coach Washijo’s voice is easily heard even among the crowd’s cheering and he can already name the drills Shirabu will have to practice back at the gym.

Knowing his luck, the coach will make Semi perform them as well. He grimaces at the thought, not too fond to feel his muscles screaming in pain way louder than his coach ever could.

“I really don’t like them,” Tendou states idly, way too cheerful to be honest, as they move to change sides of the court, “What awful way to play this game.” 

His frown becomes deeper. What he was trying to say? It was simply a sweat. The rally was simply too long. It could happen to Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, or even to Eita himself. There is nothing you can do about it. 

“Why are you talking as if they planned it?” he asks against his own sanity, looking at the redhead with curiosity. Tendou smiles. 

“SemiSemi, you know nothing about breaking hearts,” he sing-songs horribly out of tune, mimicking his fingers in some awful imitation of dance. Satori knows absolutely nothing about dancing, so he only moves them to the rhythm of his dreadful song.

“Don’t call me SemiSemi,” he snaps back, irritated, “Of course I know nothing about destroying other people's spirits. This is not how we play.”

“No, no, no, that’s not what I’m talking about, SemiSemi,” he tilts his whole body on the side, raising his left leg and placing it on his knee, before throwing his hands in the air and screaming cheerfully, “You are still single!”

A snicker. He snaps his head around and glares with pure hatred at Inarizaki’s manager. The girl, not taking any social clues, flips him off. He growls, but before he can do anything to answer, Kita, their opponents’ captain, freezing the boiling blood in Eita’s veins. 

Shivers run through his spine and he hastily averts his gaze, not wanting to get on Kita’s bad side. Something about him just strikes Eita as intimidating and harsh, as if he could destroy everybody with words alone. 

“Why are you talking as if you have a girlfriend yourself?!” he finally snaps back, glaring at their middle blocker.

Satori only sends him a shit-eating smile, before Eita is promptly ignored, leaving him with more questions than answers. Answers he cannot even think deeply about thanks to Satori going after somebody else, bringing all of the team’s attention to their conversation.

“Don’t you think so, Wakatoshi-kun?”

The ace raises his head, his expression impassive as ever. 

“I don’t think _so_ ,” he finally says, between drinking greedily from the bottle, “I’m focused on the game.” 

“No, no, no,” Satori shakes his head vigorously, “I mean, don’t you think Miya twins are irritating brats?”

“They are.” 

He blinks rapidly at Wakatoshi’s words. He, of all people, finding somebody annoying? That was new. Ushijima is usually too engrossed in the game to think about their opponents’ plays. Most of them don’t really matter to him anyway. Why should they, when he can destroy all of their machinations with power alone.

“See, SemiSemi? Even our miracle boy hates them,” Tendou’s smile widens, before he turns around to Shirabu, “So don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, Kenjiro-kun~ We will crush them to avenge your honor.” 

The brat doesn’t even raise his head, treating his upperclassmen without any respect. 

“My honor doesn’t need something like that.”

“Of course, of course!” 

Semi grimaces. 

The third set begins soon after. It’s not a five-set match, the one where endurance and stamina can decide everything, but to not be tired after such intensive play would be impossible, so Inarizaki subbing in their captain is nothing strange. 

With him there, it is easy to see how Inarizaki wishes to deal with Wakatoshi. Talented blockers and two defensive players - Kita and their libero. It shouldn’t matter, not to Shiratorizawa, but somehow the momentum Inarizaki gained in the second part of the game carries over. 

They become even more ruthless, more productive as if it was not their third set, but the first one. The plays of the Miya twins become even more wicked, more creative, as they change their roles on the court as if they were one person. Their chemistry is so good that even he can’t help but admire them. As a setter. As a player. 

But not as the person. Never as the person. 

Each time they score, he hears her voice, angering him even further. At some points, he even thinks about just crossing the court and covering her mouth, but before he can even consider it a bad idea, he is placed in the match as pitch server.

He doesn’t stay long, but the rush that enters his body, the adrenaline jump he feels, makes his annoyance irrelevant for the moment he plays. The world stops, as his fingers touch the ball and he swears he hears music, the sweet melody from his childhood, the voice of the angel appearing from the ether before he has to send in Wakatoshi’s way. 

When he comes back, he is so full of energy, of joy, that for the moment he thinks he was too harsh on her. But then she opens her damn mouth again, and he changes his mind. He is probably too gentle on her.

The match continues. He observes it like a hawk, still seeing the way Shirabu stumbles through the game, becoming slower and angrier, his toss too high or too fast. Ushijima saves them, time and time again until he can’t do it anymore. Until he is stopped again, and again.

Semi grimaces, before sharing a gaze with Satori. He looks way too serious, but he knows he sees it too. Shirabu crumbles and crumbles. It doesn't take him much to fall. And when he falls, so does their offense. So does their team.

The third set ends with Inarizaki scoring 25 to their 23.

* * *

Not 6k, but it was hard for me to write today ngl. I'm going to blame all these awful (wonderful) Haikyuu bits we are getting. Not really sure what to trust, but it seems Suna has one younger sister in the canon? I wrote him having twin sisters, so oops. Thinking what do with that, cuz I have done a little bit planning for them (not like they are going to be super important, but their relations and such), hmu. Any advice/opinions appreciated.

So. This is Shiratorizawa vs Inarizaki. We have three povs in this chapter! Though it is really little of Osamu. Will write an extensive interlude of his pov later, so don't worry. Much, much later in the story tho :3

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it, lmao.

EDIT: Ha, look at that, 7k ~


	28. In which the ultimate enemy appears (you are the only one allowed to the evil overlord).

Volleyball never seemed to be a brutal game.

Yes, Momjiro’s spikes were weapons to be deployed by the Japanese military. Yes, you had trouble following Atsumu’s serves. Yes, you are pretty sure all of your bones would be broken if you ever encountered a missile sent by one of the volleyball players. The thing is: for you, it was the sport your stupid childhood friends love. 

They never had any volleyball related conclusions. Yes, there were bruises on their arms and knees, but they never complained about them. When you see them on the court, Atsumu and Osamu are so graceful, their movement so fluid, that even somebody who knows absolutely nothing about the sport can’t help being enamored. 

There is nothing graceful about Waka. 

You swear that’s not intended as an insult. The force of his spike blows his hair into the air as if you were sitting before a fan. How is this possible? _What the fuck?_ Can you even name it a simple _spike_? Atsumu’s spikes don’t do that shit. Osamu’s spikes don’t do this shit. Aran’s spikes don’t do shit like this.

Mother of sweet Jesus.

Waka is so strong. There are sparkles in your eyes, as you observe the match further. 

Volleyball is a brutal game. 

Volleyball is a dangerous game. 

You have eyes. You could see how well-built Waka is, but watching him play is a different shoe entirely. You joked he could crush your skull, but never believed it until now. It’s hard to shatter a human's skull, after all. Stupidly hard. More than 2000 newtons force hard, and that’s only for the average skull. 

Waka can definitely have that sort of power. 

Which makes you question something you didn’t even think about before. How amazing it makes Akagi for actually being able to bump that shit? How amazing it makes Suna block that shit? 

Waka is a monster, but your teammates can fight him. To counter him. To defeat him. 

Volleyball is amazing. 

It really is. 

You place your hands on the bench, drumming your fingers on it, and then start to bounce your legs excitedly. 

It’s so cool. Even cooler than you thought. You can see the appeal, you truly do. But, one thing keeps you from practically jumping on the court itself. Okay, two. One of them is really simple. You are lazy. You don’t like sports. Ugh. There’s no way in hell you can do even half the routine of the twins. And the second? Well.

Who made this shit legal? 

You bite down on your lip. Seriously. Do you need to contact an attorney for Inarizaki endangering your friends’ wellbeing in such a dreadful way? Wait, Miya twins would probably get sad, but if that ball hit their head - gosh, you hate the thought. Are they getting killed in a such lame way? And so early? No. Nunu. You don’t want it to happen. 

Wait. 

Volleyball is an Olympic sport. 

The understanding hits you like a truck hits an anime protagonist. 

This is how it is. Very, very clever. Very, very evil. You bring your eyes to the grandfather-like form of Shiratorizawa’s coach. It’s all part of Washijo’s plan. He is the ancient overlord waiting in the shadows for his time to strike. _Éminence grise,_ the Grey Eminence, just like du Tremblay you read about. 

So, what can be his plan? Well, it’s easy. After all, what does a supervillain want? To conquer the world, of course. What does he need to succeed? Connections. Money. Army. 

_An Army._

He is trying to recruit an army out of skilled volleyball players. 

Your breath hitches. Skilled volleyball player. Who is the most skilled player on Shiratorizawa’s roaster? They called him one of the three best wing spikers in the country. Washijo wants to use Waka, your not - quite friend, in his world’s conquest. 

You narrow your eyes at Washijo, who is screaming something at one of his players, trying to play innocent. His words are not important. His goals are. He wants to use a good person in his dirty game. Somebody who is practically a teddy bear. The person you planned on befriending. Is that - is that your first mission? Save the teddy bear, [Name]. _Save him_. 

You try to nod with determination, but of course, you forgot your neck is actually still a ticking bomb. It just activates, meaning you whine. Not wanting to cause people to look at you, you cover your mouth with your too-long sleeves. 

You are pretty glad that overprotective twins are focused on playing the game because they would totally start to badmouth Kageyama. Your blueberry cupcake doesn’t deserve such treatment from the hell brothers. He needs cuddles, not struggles, even though he still didn’t call you. There is not even a message. That’s depressing. 

You swing your legs, trying to not think about it too much. Huh. When did the score change? It’s 23 - 21. Which you are pretty sure means that if they score now - 

“Is everything good, Date - san?”

You blink, before looking back at Ojiro. _Date - san_ , righto. He still calls you that. Nah, that won’t do. It sounds awful formal for the person you claim as your mom. 

“Please, call me [Name], Momjiro,” you say, and being satisfied with those words, you decide to ask a meaningful question, “That’s that moment, right? You know the one. When they hit twenty-four points!” 

You can’t remember the name of this, but you are pretty sure it was something french sounding. Or maybe Italian? You raise your finger to your lip in wonder. Latin. Latin is good enough. It was something Latin - sounding. 

“M - momjiro?” Aran brings you back from your thoughts, his bewildered shout ringing in your ears. Is he playing Carrot Cake now? So loud, your hands move to gently massage them, “Why Momjiro? And - well, something called Deuce happens when both teams score twenty-four points. From that moment the first team to get over two points wins.” 

“You are our mom, Momjiro,” you tell him earnestly, not understanding what the problem is. Twins call him mom all the time, he called himself mom, he is the mom, “So it doesn’t happen now?” 

“No. Only we have twenty-four points,” he explains patiently. Okay, you get it! Maybe. Why did volleyball people - oh, wait. Deuce can mean devil in English, right? You wrinkle your nose, “And even if I am, I don’t want to be called that! How do you go from _Ojiro - senpai_ to _Momjiro_?” 

Very easily. You just had to be a little more comfortable with the team, but now that most of them know your true colors, why should you bother with a mask of politeness to not get murdered? What are, a liar like Atsu? Pff. No way. 

“Momjiro,” you abandon any pretense of being polite, “I’m going to think about demons now.” 

“What?!” 

You ignore him because you are about to think about demons, duh. 

Your demonology is not the best, because summoning a devil was never something you were particularly interested in. It was a little bit closer to mythology than you liked, and okay, some mythology is cool, but how much can a person read about Zeus cheating on his wife before it becomes too much? Yeah, so, demonology. You are pretty sure _deuce_ can mean European demon. But which one: French or German? You are pretty sure it’s one of the two. 

There is another thing to take from this. It’s your evidence. Not that you needed it, but yeah, it’s nice to get one. Washijo’s conspiracy runs _deep_. Maybe he was the one who invited this sport. 

Gods. It's a super important clue in finding the true identity of Washijo. You really doubt he would use his real name, so you need to find out to call him out! So. French or German. Wait, wait, wait - 

_Washijo is Count Saint - Germaine_. That’s it, that has to be it. You found his secret identity. You did it so fast, without even having a long, overarching arc, but you will take it. 

You peer at your enemy, satisfied. 

Huh. 

Something is wrong. Count Saint - Germaine was French. Or he was from Transylvania. It’s complicated. Nobody knows, okay? Washijo looks Japanese. Does it mean he can change his appearance? 

No. Wait. That’s too far-fetched. If he could change his appearance why would he look like grandpa? He could literally be a sex god or Leonardo Di Caprio. Doesn’t make sense he would go for that, no matter how much he wants to hide. So. He is totally evil, ancient overlord, but you guess he is not Saint - Germaine. A pity, but well, what can you do? You will get him next time. 

Maybe later. You can’t stare at him too much or he will be able to deduce you know about him. You shift your focus from Washijo, meeting the heated gaze of Cheesecake on the way. You show him your middle finger before you return to looking at Aran, who shakes his head at you. 

“You shouldn’t provoke them,” he tells you. Your answer in the most persuasive manner you know - you sulk. He is instantly taken aback, so you go for the next hit. 

“I’m not provoking him,” you argue, and then, as if to reiterate your point, that bitch dares to flip your back. You blink, before sweetly saying, “I’m going to fight him.”

“Please don’t!” 

You giggle at his concern, earning the stare from Rude Cheesecake. Fuck him. Fuck him so much. Deciding to not be irritated by people below your station, you look back at the court. 

Chtulhu, your boys are _shining_. How can they be so energetic and happy when the sweat is practically dripping from their bodies. You wish you could offer them a napkin. It has to feel so disgusting. You grimace. This is why sports suck. Effort makes sweat happen. Do sweat happen when you read a book or lie in bed watching a documentary? Yeah, you don’t think so. 

But they love it. They love it, so you love it too. _No real choice, sis,_ you think to yourself fondly, as you return to the volleyball world. Oh, Osamu is tossing to RinRin! The opposing team move and then - 

Something _swishes_. 

You don’t have an idea what they just did - you swear the ball just disappeared the moment it touched Rin’s hand before it landed heavily on the ground. Everybody around is _screaming_. 

“Can I go to them?” you ask Ojiro and when he nods you raise your lazy bones from the bench. 

You are only able to move a few steps before you feel wet arms around you. Sweat. Of course, it’s the sweat. You just were telling how disgusting it felt. You lift your head, about to complain, but then - 

Osamu _smiles at you_ , dazzling like the sun. He looks so damn happy that you would feel guilty as hell. You toss your arms around his neck, becoming him close. Then, standing on your tip-toes, you leave a tender kiss on his chin. Your friend brings for a second, before he moves even closer, resting his forehead on yours and placing his hands at your cheeks carefully. 

You beam at him right back. 

“Welcome back,” you murmur, “Good job.” 

“Not crying anymore?” he teases you gently, and you feel your cheeks becoming way too hot. You did not cry. You did not. And everybody who claims otherwise should speak carefully because you will contact your lawyer. 

You are so close your noses are practically touching, so you don’t have a problem with raising your hand to pull on his ear. His smile instantly changes to a mischievous one, so you take a step back, releasing his ear. 

“Lame,” you tell him, “You’re so lame.” 

He chuckles at you, his eyes flickering playfully, as he lets you go. 

“Am I?” 

You sigh, shrugging at that, or at least trying to shrug, remembering it will hurt, and then deciding to just place your hands in the air, keeping your palms flat, trying to imitate emoji. 

“You know you are not, that’s Atsu. You are the coolest - wha - Atsu - chan?!” 

Your great speech is interrupted, as said person embraces you from behind at the waist, before he lifts you, giving you nearly a heart attack. You are for the random displays of affection, but not when 

So you shriek, swinging your legs and hands wildly, trying to hit him. What the fuck. That could be the serial killer, or you don’t know a drug dealer, and you are pretty sure you would be at that person's mercy. Oh god, oh god, you wiggle in his embrace. 

You are pretty sure Osamu looks at that impassively, not even moving to help you. Demon at heart, only pretending to be an angel - 

“Hey, calm down, sunshine. That’s only me!”

Atsumu’s words make you struggle ever harder. 

He doesn’t really have a choice, other than setting you down. You take a deep breath, calming down, before you slap his arm, straight - up hissing at him like a snake. He will make you become She-Snake instead of Vixen! 

Which actually is maybe cooler? Huh. You need to think about it more. Instead of taking you seriously, he coos at you. As if your rightful anger was something cute. You slap him again, but he only laughs, so you prepare to do so again, and again, and again. 

“Wait, wait,” he finally capitulates, “You will hurt yourself if you keep hitting me.” 

You are about to commit first-degree murder to the audience of the whole gym. No, wait, it's the second degree because it is unplanned. If you did plot this shit, you would totally do a better job. 

Before you can realize your diabolos not - planned - murder, Atsu to your confusion pats his own cheek. What, does he want to get punched right here? Not a chance. 

“Where is my prize, [Name]?” he says, when you only continue to glare at him, “For winning a match for our precious princess?” 

You know he didn’t win for you. He won for himself because he is a selfish prick and can’t take a loss. You raise your eyebrow at him, as you clasp your hands behind your back. 

“My foot in your face can be your fucking prize,” you propose a compromise, ever so graciously, “Come here.”

“So profane, [Name] - chan,” he snorts with fake indignation, “Truly, your mouth has to be washed with soap.” 

You smile sweetly at this, as your lips open. 

“I will drown you,” you simply inform him innocently, “In the fucking lava.” 

“In your room, you mean?” he nods, as he places his hand on the waits, leaning a bit forward in your direction, “Cute.” 

_You will end him._

How do you stab somebody with no knife? If only you had your high - heels, Atsumu Miya would be dead, and his brother would have to bail you out of prison. You are pretty sure he would be able to do it, even with so many witnesses. Osamu is nothing, but creative. 

“Wait, we're getting prizes?” Rin comes to the three of you, stopping your plans in the making because looking at him reminds you of the words he has spoken not so long ago, “I sure hope mine is the sweet release of the death.” 

Maybe you have hallucinated him calling you a _pretty girl_ after all. Now he sounds pretty normal, though it is a little hard to take him seriously when it looks like he showed effort in the match. 

He is sweated just as profusely as the twins. Seeing him play _seriously,_ you suppose, is strange, due to the fact there is hardly any difference between current, soul sold long ago, RinRin and the one you saw on the court. He could be a little bit sharper out here, his eyes trailing behind his opponents’ movement fast, but other than that? You saw nothing and was actually surprised when he moved. 

Boy did RinRin move like a ninja. Why did he dislike _Naruto_ anyway? You never asked. Maybe you should. And then make him watch, so he can love it as much as you do. He can even meme his way through! Oh, that sounds fun. 

_Not you, though, pretty girl._

You can’t talk about it, though. Not when your stupid mind still remembers those imagined words. Hallucinated words. Not true words. Haha.

You close your eyes, as you feel him move closer.

Fake words, fake words, didn’t happen. Nobody has evidence to say otherwise, because you had a strange, fake dream, oh god, why did you dream about something as embarrassing as that anyway?! 

Now, [Name], how do we deal with embarrassment? 

Option one: Continue with your denial. Pretend nothing happened. It didn’t happen. It was all the dream, a strange fever dream, but why would you fucking dream about being a pretty girl? What sort of strange kink is that? 

Option two: Be grown - up and accept that for some strange reason, Suna Rintarou flirted with you. Ask him why did he do something like that and tell him it was not funny, and this joke-flirt thing made you uncomfortable. But that means admitting that happened. Haha. Never. 

Option three: All of life is a simulation, making what happened only a script, a glitch in the matrix. So you shouldn’t worry about it. Huh, that sounds tempting. 

“Are we getting stupid prizes?” 

_Too motherfucking close._

You swear your hair jump out in the air, as he comes close, so you do the one thing that seems to be, you know, smart. You step back, take hold of Atsumu’s arm and hide. Sneakily. Like a snake. She-snake! 

Your reaction makes Osamu arch his eyebrow at you in question, but you doubt it is something you would be able to communicate telepathically, so you just pursue your lips in a thin line. 

“What the fuck did you do, Rin?” 

Okay, that’s not how you thought he would react. He doesn’t sound angry per se, rather worried and confused, so that’s good, but that reaction brings Atsumu’s attention, which is not good. 

He looks down on you desperately holding his arm, before he leans down to you. Sir, that’s not how you talk with short people. 

“Sunshine, do we need to bury RinRin alive?” he asks you kindly, smiling his dreadful smile of mayhem and wildfire, “You know I’m always up for something like that.” 

Rin perks up at that. 

“Please do.” 

He bows a little to twins in an exaggerated manner. He sounds super normal, though, making you go back to your denial. Maybe it was really just a dream, after all. You shrug a little at Atsu, but he doesn’t buy it, only observing you even more. 

Okay, motherfucker, you are on.

“You wanted your prize, huh?” you ask him, but before he can answer, you reach out for the corner of his uniform and tug him down, bringing him even closer, “Here, have my then affection.” 

You bring your face forward to his ear and then move your lips to nibble on his ear for a second or two, before stepping back. 

“How about that?” you stick your tongue out and pull your eyelid down, “Just pierced your stupid ears, dumb - dumb.” 

Huh? What’s wrong with Atsu? He just stands before you, not moving, not reacting, not even blinking, just looking at the place you were second before, his hand hanging next to the ear you bit. 

You wrinkle your nose, confused beyond belief, but before you can react, you are interrupted by Rin’s voice. 

“Oh, you killed him,” you turn around, and he stands right next to you, “Do me next.” 

What.

You blink at him. 

The fuck. Is he for real? He wants his ear to be nibbled at? That’s strange. You can totally do this again, without any problem. No. Wait, wait, wait. If you think about it a little bit deeper, then - Scratch that. That would be so fucking embarrassing. You don’t mind doing so to Atsu. It’s like a kiss on the cheek and giving one to him or his grey-haired twin is normal. To Rin? Nope. You can bop his nose instead - 

_Not you, though, pretty girl._

Your face instantly heats up.

“Hey, Rin - kun, you really want to die, huh?” 

Hey, Atsumu is back, back again. That’s good, but you can’t understand what happened to him before. Maybe that simulation theory is correct and he had his own glitch. Now, though, why he is so angry at Rin?

You tilt your head very, very carefully, as you look at them. Atsu is holding his arm around Rin, smiling at him with such a fake smile that you feel his anger radiating from your position. 

Was he jealous? Is he dating Rin? You blink rapidly. Okay, you didn’t expect that, but why else would he be so angry? You peer at Suna, who is looking tired and done, like always. Would he be more nervous if his lover accused him of cheating? 

Osamu yawns. 

You take a step back. 

“Weren’t you dead?” deadpans Rin after a second, before he sighs, “Which means her lips are not poisonous enough to kill?” 

Of course, they aren’t. You roll your eyes. Would you kiss Osamu’s chin if your lips were laced with poison? Fuck no. You would never hurt SamSam! Atsumu is a different matter entirely. Okay, he is not, but he cannot know it. He will never shut up about it.

Rin smiles. Oh. That’s the same smile he gave Moon Tower before. 

“Which means your little _stiffened_ posture was for something different?” the middle blocker hums a little, his tone light and nice. In the contrast, his words sound cutting. 

His eyes glimmering maliciously. Okay. You don’t understand what he is talking about now. You are not dumb, though. They are both angry for some reason and they are using your random act of affection as an excuse to fight, which is really lame. Find yourself better excuses, you jerks. 

Well, you will take another step. You don’t want to get into the middle of that. 

“Let’s go get snacks,” Osamu proposes to you, “You didn’t eat all of them, right, [Name]?” 

“Left some for you,” you smile at him, deciding that eating sounds way better than listening to some stupid argument. 

He takes your hand gently, and both of you ignore whatever Atsu and Rin are doing so to sit on the bench and eat pocky sticks and candy bars. You got a lot of KitKats. A lot of really tasty KitKats. You eat them with Osamu, looking as Momjiro starts to scream at your friends, stopping their stupid argument. 

You can’t do it for long in quiet, though. Shinsuke intervenes, ordering everybody with his ice glare to line up. Even Osamu goes, leaving you alone, as your team goes to shake hands with Shiratorizawa. They then process to bow before the crowd - and you don’t join them this time, thank god. 

You just sit peacefully on your bench, munching on your candy bar. You are truly alone here. Like, the only one person sitting, which should probably make you flustered, but you feel too lazy to care. Coach Oomi and Kurosu are talking with your nemesis, Washijo, and accompanying him younger trainer, while your team is totally not arguing with the crowd. Not at all. 

What about Shiratorizawa? They are polite, just like you thought, as they simply bowed down, and started to pack their things. At least that what you thought. You are holding your matcha candy bar with your teeth when you see somebody coming closer to you.

It’s Matchmaker.

You feel a shiver going down your spine. 

He doesn’t look so dangerous, as he bounces happily in your direction, the Shiratorizawa’s blazer hugging his uniform already. He looks happy and excited, making you think of cute people, but you know better. You take your candy bar into your hands. He matchmakes people. You cannot trust him. 

“Hello, Princess!” he greets you with your stupid nickname. You cringe a little at that, but don’t answer, mostly because you don’t know what to say. _Hey, please, don’t matchmake me_ sounds lame, “Whatcha doin’?” 

Eating away your pain. 

Oh, god, you spend too much time with Rin. You sound just like him. 

“W - waiting?” you tilt your head a little, holding your candy bar tightly. Will he try to steal it and run? It’s not like you would follow him. You will not run ever. Not even for your food. It’s much easier to buy another one. 

He grins at your words, but somehow, you can’t shake the motion his smile is more mischievous kind than a nice one. 

“You know, Princess,” he drawls letters, leaning a little bit forward, “Wakatoshi - kun couldn’t stop talking about you.”

You raise your eyes suspiciously at him. Wakatoshi. Waka. Toshi. That’s your Waka, you hope. Okay, one thing is defined. Time for another. _Couldn’t stop talking about you_. Really? He didn’t seem like a person who uses his words a lot. 

Does it mean - does it mean what you think it means? _Friends_. Dear Elder One, you hope so. Taking Washijo out of your mind, Waka is just such a person you want to befriend.

You don’t know how to answer, though, so you remain quiet, looking into his red eyes. You have the right to be so. You know your laws.

“Not a comment?” his whole body twitches, and he sniggers for a second, before his whole demeanor changes. You blink, taking a bite out of your candy bar, as he becomes slimy if that makes sense. There is something cunning in his eyes, so you start to worry about your KitKat. You have to eat it fast, not hold it, “You know, Princess, you are shyer than I thought.” 

That’s because there is no Osamu and Atsumu, or even Rin or Shinsuke nearby. Not that you are going to tell him that, though. You take another bite of your snack and slowly munch on it, thinking about how to answer.

Before you can actually with an appropriate way to do so, another big shadow joins you. It’s Waka, and you don’t fight the beaming smile that shows on your face at his appearance. You wanted to talk with him, and lo and behold, there he is! 

“Tendou, [Name],” he nods at the two of you, “Is there a problem?” 

“Problem? Why should we have a problem?” Matchmaker speaks slowly, smiling innocently. You would totally roll your eyes, but to be honest, you feel quite anxious, so you decide to hold now, for now. Matchmaker, mercilessly, continues, “Oh. Are you jealous, Wakatoshi - kun? Of me talking with our Princess?” 

Jealous? Of what? You bite down on your lip. Why should he be jealous of your strange conversation? Oh, no. Matchmaker is probably trying to set Waka up with you. That’s what he does, he sees relationships in a different light than you, mere mortal, do. 

“No.” 

You giggle at Waka’s answer, causing him to glance at you. You stop your tittering then, instead of sending him a soft smile. He doesn’t smile back, but his expression becomes gentler, kinder. He is such a considerate person. 

“You say it with such a straight face!” Matchmaker points his fingers at Teddy Bear, “[Name] - chan will be sad to hear it, you know!” 

Who let him call you by your first name? It’s one thing to be called Princess, but your first name shouldn’t be used by strangers. It feels weird. It feels wrong. Can’t he just stick with that stupid title? Or your last name? 

To be honest you would take anything. Just not [Name]. Anything but being called by your name by strangers. That just feels strange, uncomfortable, slimy. You don’t like it. 

“I’m not sad,” you say before you lower your gaze, a little bit shy, “I - I would prefer not being called by my name, please.” 

“Oho - ho! Do you mean me?” Matchmaker brings his finger to his chin, rocking on his feet, “Or do you mean Wakatoshi - kun, [Name] - chan?” 

He tries to tease you. You are not okay with this, so you grab your candy bar a little bit harder before you finally take the last bite. So, now you are called by something you explicitly didn’t want to be called and don’t have more candy bars. 

Fucking wonderful. 

“Tendou,” Waka’s calm voice causes the redhead to turn to him. He doesn’t say anything, but Matchmaker seems to see something in his eyes. You try to concentrate a little bit more, and finally, you can see what he was able to read so quickly. Wakatoshi is actually asking him to not call you that.

That’s really, really sweet. You feel a little bubble of happiness growing inside of your chest. 

“Okay, okay, okay, I understand,” he waves his head dismissively, before he shots finger guns at Wakatoshi, “I’m leaving you both alone, lovebirds!” 

“We’re not parrots,“ Wakatoshi answers, looking at the figure of his retreating friend. 

You don’t really think that Tendou person actually meant African parrots. That would be a super weird thing to do because you don’t really look like one. Waka, though? You try to imagine him like a parrot. No, no, no, that’s wrong. Too colorful. He is Teddy Bear, brown and warm. Not as flashy as an exotic bird.

Which means he probably was speaking about something else.

“In a metaphorical sense, lovebirds mean a pair of lovers, believe it or not,” you explain, raising your finger into the air, “Methinks he was teasing us.”

Which is actually annoying a bit. Can’t a girl and boy talk without being taken for the couple? Like, it always happens when you are with twins, and now you can’t even have one male friend to not be taken for their significant other? 

“I see,” he nods, before furrowing his eyebrows at you, “Does it bother you?”

Hm. It does, but you don’t think you want to trouble Waka with your stupid problems. You stand up from the bench, not feeling really comfortable sitting and being even smaller. Being up doesn’t help, not truly, but it’s better. A little bit.

You look at the volleyball player, assessing him quickly. He is a powerful, impressive figure. Tall and muscular, you should probably be intimidated by him. You are not. You are not at all. He looks tired, which is not shocking because he just played a long game. 

“Hey, Waka - san, how tall are you?” you ask him, placing your hands behind your back. You intervene your fingers there, stretching them a bit. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminds you gently. You smile awkwardly, trying to tell him it’s a complicated issue. It all that it takes to make him decide it’s not so important, “I’m 189 cm tall.” 

He is actually shorter than Moon Tower? That’s unfortunate. You wish he was taller, so he could crush his stupid blond hair, but what can you do. Well, time to ask another thing that was at the corner of your mind.

But before you can ever think of doing so, he opens his mouth instead, peering into your eyes. 

“How about you?”

You blink in surprise. He shifts his weight, but doesn’t look really uncomfortable or anything like that. If you had to guess, you would call him bashful at that moment, even if there is no red on his ears or cheeks. 

“I wish to know you better. I thought starting with your height would be appreciated, because you asked me the same,” he explains carefully as if he is afraid of rejection, “I hope it’s not a problem.”

“It’s not, don’t worry,” you press your lips in silent wonder, “Nobody asked me about that before, I think, that’s all. I’m about 150 cm tall. Don’t know the exact number, because that would cause me to be too depressed, you know.” 

“You don’t enjoy being short?”

You snicker, bouncing on the balls of your feet forward and backward. What sort of question is that? You would totally get angry at anybody else asking something like that, but from this particular volleyball player, the question is cute.

“Do you enjoy being tall?” you ask him instead, smiling shyly. 

“I wish I was taller. Height is important in volleyball.” 

It’s simple logic. You should probably agree, but is it really? Like, Kageyama called Suna short, and yet he rocked today anyway. Wouldn’t be super cruel if only tall people could play this sport? What about your friends, about Osa and Atsu? They are short to some people, too? 

That’s stupid. You think you found something you will have to disagree on, then. Well, it happens, nothing to cry about. You open your mouth, wanting to question him finally when you hear it. 

_That voice_.

“Get away from [Name] - chan, Ushiwaka!” 

Waka turns around to look at him, but you refuse to, instead of taking a deep breath, trying to ignore him. Ignore his whole existence. Ignore that he was born. Ignore that he is breathing. Ignore that he is talking. 

“Oikawa.” 

Fuck. 

You growl and turn around, looking at Shittykawa waving and screaming at you from the stands. He looks comical, the ugly bitch that haunts your every move. 

Answering him would be like taking candy from a stranger. Very, very tempting, but also stupid and irresponsible. As a person who is very careful, not paranoid, like not at all, because it’s not paranoia if they are out to get you. 

Washijo is totally out to get you.

Is Puffy out to get you? That’s the thing. Puffy is like a person from prehistoric times. You can’t fucking understand him at all. What does he want from you? Your money? Your friends’ lives? Or is he a murderer? _The Puffy Killer_.

That’s some lame nickname. Perfect for him, though. 

“What do you think you are doing, standing so close?!” 

One way or another, you decide to not take this particular candy, ignoring him and instead of looking up at Waka. Oh, right, he doesn’t know about Puffykawa. You bite down on your lip, not sure how to begin to explain Oikawa Tooru. Oh. Wait.

“He’s like Regina George, Waka - san.” 

An incarnate of evil. Huh. Something’s not right? 

“I don’t know Regina George,” he answers calmly, not knowing how ( ironically) how those words give you a heart attack. 

You _wheeze_ before clutching your heart in a dramatic manner you totally stole from Atsumu. It causes you to whimper pathetically. Fuck. Didn’t expect that. Should have expected that. Jesus Christ. 

Waka moves forward, ready to catch you if you were to trip, but you don’t, or you think you don’t, but then, you actually do. You don’t know why your leg just randomly decides to stop working, but you stumble. You don’t fall to the floor only because he was ready to catch you. 

So this is how you find yourself being held in his arms. So. Fucking. Embarrassing. You fluster under his concerned gaze. 

“Are you alright?” 

Yeah, yeah, no. Your heart is about to explode. 

“I’m not!” you exclaim, using the rest of your pride to continue your act, “You don’t know Regina George? You have to watch _Mean Girls_! And then you have to watch the musical. Oh, oh, did you see _Heathers_? Or _Hamilton_?” 

“I didn’t.” 

He is joking, right? You look up, ignoring how close the two of you now that you have confirmations of such heresy, such crime, that you nearly feel the Spanish Inquisition being reborn just to teach him about culture.

Does he at least know the Spanish Inquisition?! 

“Let’s have a musical night, then. We will get popcorn!“ you decide instantly, abandoning Monty Python for music. Please, forgive that sinful child, “Not knowing Hamilton is practically a crime, Waka - san!” 

“It is?” 

“Yes! It's a crime against humanity. We have to fix it right now - ” 

“Ushiwaka, you pervert!” Puffykawa’s voice comes again, uninvited, “Where are you touching her?! In public?!” 

He is holding you because you nearly fell over. Jesus, he is so stupid. Is there anybody more stupid than him on this stupid, stupid planet? Probably not. 

“Sunshine?” your blood runs cold. Of course, he heard Puffykawa’s cries and decided to come back. You look at him from above Waka’s arm and instantly gulp your “Hey, Wakatoshi - kun, what are you doing with our dear childhood friend? Aren’t you a little too handsy?”

There are actually people more stupid than him, it seems. And they are your friends.

“So fucking lame,” joins his twin, his lips pressed into line and fist clutched. He is angry? Over Wakatoshi helping you? 

“Lame.” 

Even Suna?! 

“Ushijima.” 

Shinsuke? Why is your beautiful captain glaring daggers into Waka? What’s wrong with them?! They all behave like Atsu and Osa when they are in their protective mode. Oh, gods. All of them going into a protective mode? Over you tripping?! 

Your head is starting to hurt. What a mess. Your life is a mess. Such an awful mess. You wish earth could open to swallow you whole. 

“Thank you for catching me from falling, Waka - san,” you say very loudly, very deliberately before everyone on this planet will think that he was doing something indecent. What is wrong with those people? “I’m sorry about idiots.” 

“That’s alright,” he looks at them before he returns to watching you. He slowly and gently releases you, making sure you are stable and well - balanced on the floor. 

“You agree with her that we are idiots,” deadpans Rin and you really want to deck him, but decide to instead roll your eyes. 

_That’s because you are idiots._

* * *

Rolling with the chapter, like, hey, what’s up, it’s 23 right here, I was able to get it done in time.

Actually, though I would not be able to get this out today, lol, because I was too busy re-editing/reworking older chapters. Didn’t take care of all of them, but here it is. Hope you enjoy it, everybody! 

Thank you for reading! 

NOTE: Inarizaki is in Amagasaki now, because Furudate hates me. Twins are from that place as well, but they spend a lot of time in Kobe, where Himawari Ryokan is located. MC is from Kobe but moved to Amagasaki to be closer to school and twins. 

Rin also has a single sister, but I’m not going to stop torturing him, so he has twin cousins as well! :3


	29. In which nobody should ever trust any of you (it leads to buildings being set on fire).

No smoke comes out of the roaster, leaving the air in the restaurant clear. Or as clear as it can be when _you_ are fuming with anger. Osamu peers at you with the corner of his eye, as most of his attention, is on the roasting meat. 

“You know,” Atsumu starts slowly, his tone cautious, “You would probably burn yourself if you tried anyway, sunny.” 

You refuse to answer, your hands crossed around your chest in clear defiance. He sighs before he reaches over to your hair, wanting to ruffle it. You don’t let him, childishly dodging his hand. He dares to look hurt at that. Manipulative bastard. You growl at him, opening your mouth to show him your teeth as if you were a wild animal. 

“I heard about something like that,” Rin, who is sitting just in front of you, nods seriously, his dead eyes staring into yours, “Girls before that time are always moody and aggressive.” 

_Before that time_? You take the closest item - a salt shaker, how fantastic, it’s just as salty as him - and hurl into his direction. He catches it, showing a display of agility that would make you cheer in normal circumstances. 

“ _Hello, darkness, my old friend_ ,” he intones, placing the salt shaker back on the table, before leaning more and more into his chair, until he completely disappears under the table, “ _I came to speak with you again_ ,” comes his muffled voice. 

That’s funny - wait, you are not supposed to smile at his stupid antics! You are angry. You are walking inferno of hate and darkness - wait, no, darkness, he just said darkness, ugh, he is influencing you already. 

“Hey, Rintarou, that’s my leg!” Akagi straight - up giggles, “That tickles!” 

“And that’s my head,” comes a tired voice of the troll under the table, “Nice to hear at least my hair is not useless.” 

“You can be also used as a bad example, Rin-kun,” Atsumu mocks him until he senses your glare. He instantly becomes quiet under it. 

“Just come back, Rin,” Osamu doesn’t even raise his head, still focusing on the meat, “Or you are not getting any food.” 

“Starvation is always a nice option,” he mumbles but crawls up on his chair, “I came back. Did you all miss me?”

“No,” Atsumu answers for all of you, “Please, go back.” 

He doesn’t. You hiss at him when he returns, displeased, before you turn around, refusing to meet his gaze. To your utter misery, you end up looking at Kita Shinsuke. Your greatest enemy.

“[Name],” he tries, and that’s not fair. It’s discriminatory than he tries to talk to you because you are supposed to be furious at him too, but you can’t be angry at him, not truly. He is too good of a person.

You hate it. This all their fault anyway! They overacted, they got angry at the person who helped you, acting as if you couldn’t take care of yourself. They probably destroyed any chance of you making a friend out of Waka.

You grasp the edge of your chair with your fingers. You drum them carefully and find yourself startled they drum the rhythm of an old melody from your childhood. It’s nothing intricate. You are not some sort of musical genius, who can play the piano, guitar, and violin. The only instrument you ever needed was your voice. 

What you are so startled about is the fact that his habit didn’t belong to you. It was someone else’s. The old frenemy that you remember fondly, even if he was an asshole. If you were not so angry, you would spend a lot of time wondering why. 

You are super angry. Okay, maybe not angry. More like agitated. Annoyed. Irritated. Ready to kill, and so scared. 

You hate that you feel so insecure right now. 

You don’t know if Waka will want to talk with you more. Before you could talk further and gauge his reaction, you were called by coach Oomi, while Waka had to join his team next to Washijo. You were ready to say goodbye forever, knowing you will never have a chance to make him a friend and save him from the ancient overlord. Then you heard something nice for a change. 

_Teams’ bonding experience_ , your dog - lover of the coach called it, _We will try to build a stronger relationship with Shiratorizawa High._

You translated it into _I want to fix our shit reputation, so we can get any practice matches at all, even if have to travel eleven hours for that_. 

“[Name]-san,” Momjiro tries, when you remain silent, “I know you are angry but aren’t you too cold? They were just worried about you.”

You don’t need them to worry about you, though. You don’t want to worry about them. You will only hold them back. It was bad enough when twins were the only ones, but now, your other friends are held back by you as well? 

You will bring them down. 

This is simply what you do to people. 

“Momjiro tell those idiots and Shinsuke that I hate they made me sit with them,” at the sound of your voice, the four of them whip their heads in your direction. Were you petty enough to not talk with them for an hour? Yes. Yes, you were. 

Yes, you thought about sitting with other people to make your displeasure very, very clear to see to everybody, but were forced to be tucked between Sam and Atsu, which made you even angrier. 

“You wouldn’t be able to eat sitting next to somebody else, sunshine,” tries gently Atsumu, looking at you with an unsure smile. 

He is normally such a liar. Why is he speaking the truth when you want to be in denial? Yes, you are pathetic enough that you know that you would be able to relax and eat. You. Not eating. When there is a Japanese buffet, fully paid for by your school. 

You shouldn’t be shocked to find that Inarizaki and Shiratorizawa fully funded your today’s meal. They were the ones to make you go there, this is the least they could do. You were a little bit surprised to find the restaurant they chose. They reserved the whole room for your teams, and, boy, what a room it is. 

There are aquariums all around you, full of colorful fishes swimming just behind you. There are so many of them: you are not able to name one, because most of your knowledge is purely theoretical, and you don’t go through life remembering all kinds of fishes.

So you named some of them. That red one is named Eliza after Elizabeth Bathory, while the small, white, cute one is Vlad after Vlad III The Impaler. You are irritated, okay, it’s not your fault you think about those bloody people who would probably help you kill your enemies. They were cool like that. 

Other than that it’s pretty standard: big, with several tables and chairs. There is a big window with a nice view of Sendai below you, and that’s all, you suppose. Nothing interesting, nothing for super-rich people. That’s it if you don’t count the fact you have to roast your meat on your own. 

Your restaurant serves yakiniku. You love yakiniku, don’t get you wrong, but there is no way in hell you can honestly like the food that you are supposed to yourself, so it’s impossible for you to get on your own.

For better or worse, you are not alone. Griddles on your tables are manned by Osamu, Shinsuke, and Momjiro, the only people your coaches trust with cooking anything, which is good. You are pretty sure you would burn something. Probably the whole building and all of those pretty fishes in the tanks. 

Your team is sitting in one corner of the room, while Shiratorizawa is on the other. Coaches didn’t comment on this at all, instead deciding to sit on their own and to order something called _All You Can Drink_ Course, which made you raise your eyebrow in silent judgment. 

All this shit about making bonds is bullshit, probably. They just wanted an excuse to drink. This is probably why Washijo didn’t join you on this little trip. You don’t drink if you are the evil overlord in hiding. What if you will spill all of your secret plans? He is cautious, you will give him that. 

“[Name],” Shinsuke opens his mouth again, causing you to peer at him. 

You don’t exactly glare at him, just are looking, okay? You don’t know why that causes him to wince. He is your robo - dad, he can be cold as hell, but he has feelings, you know that. He just hides them very well, so the fact you can see his hurt expression makes you want to scream and beg for forgiveness.

You don’t, though.

You are angry, remember? Don’t forget about it now, [Name]. 

“I’m sorry we misunderstood the situation,” he says simply when you are still quiet, “We were just worried about you.” 

They didn’t need to be. That’s the problem. You can deal with things on your own. If you ever require their help, you will ask for it, like, it’s simple. You are lazy as hell, do they think you want to do everything by yourself? Well, you don’t. 

You only wished you were trusted.

“Do all of you think I can’t do shit?” you ask them, “Because I know I’m super pathetic, okay, but - “

“You are not,” his sharp voice cuts you, “None of us think you are.” 

“So why,” you don’t exactly ask, but rather whine those words out, your finger stopping tapping onto your chair, "Why?"

“Because we are stupid, and you are smart,” Rin deadpans, making you think he is ironic. Your lips turn into a sullen pout, which makes his eyes clench as he sighs. He moves his head a little bit forward, sounding much more serious, “Listen, you are so adorable we just can’t help it, okay? We don’t want to see you sad.” 

What. 

_What._

_A-adorable?!_

W-wait, why are so flustered about that word?! He called you that a million times before, but somehow, it sounds different right now.

“Rintarou is right, [Name],” Shinsuke nods.

“W - wait, you mean, you think I’m adorable?”

The chopsticks Shinsuke used to turn over the meat are dropped from his hand. It doesn’t land on the griddle, thank Cthulhu, instead, falling on the floor. 

“Shinsuke!” Aran instantly stands up, looking at his friend “Oh, please, not again.” 

Not again what? You tear your gaze of Ojiro and shift your attention back at Shinsuke, who seems to be absolutely stunned. You flutter your eyelids in wonder, not exactly knowing what happened, and suddenly concerned.

“Shinsuke, are you alright?” you question, feeling as if you did something wrong, “That’s my fault, is that not? Oh, gods. What I have done?!” 

At the sound of your panic, Shinsuke blinks slowly, before his face completely changes. Not in a good way. Not in a good way at all. 

“Of course you are, sunshine,” Atsumu shrugs as he once again, reaches over to you. This time, you let him tug you back to your seat, “Even a blind person could tell you so.”

Rin pokes Shinsuke on the shoulder, and yet, he still doesn’t react. You look to the Momjiro, who looks as worried as you, though you are pretty sure there is also something different on his face. You are not really able to label that mien, though. 

In a panic, you face around to Atsumu, who is much easier to read, as he glares at Rin. 

“TsuTsu,” you whine, “What’s wrong with Shinsuke?”

“Glitch,” he tells you, not turning to you for the second. You tug on his sleeve, wanting his attention, and he heeds your plea immediately, his golden - like eyes meeting your scared ones, “It’s nothing important, [Name]. You really shouldn’t worry about our captain.” 

Shinsuke is not a robot, though. He doesn’t glitch, right? Atsumu sighs, stretching his hand to your face. His hand gently takes hold of your chin, one of his fingers landing just on your bottom lip. You wait patiently for him to speak, to explain, but he doesn’t, only watching your mouth. 

“Tsu - chan, you remember I’m super injured, right?” you arch your eyebrows up at him, feeling impatient, as he does nothing, “Like, I have bandaids all over my face. And that stupid bandage. I need to move my poor neck. “

“You need more self-awareness, you dumbass,” he finally speaks and you grimace. What the fuck does it mean? “You and Samu are going to kill me one day. If the captain doesn’t do it first.” 

“My self-awareness is good, thank you very much,” you scowl, raising your hand to his and pinching it painfully, “You know, I have at least three plans on making my escape from this place. Four, if you count that one where I just defenestrate myself out of the window.” 

You challenge him with the glare of your own. 

Wait, that discussion is so stupid. Like, what does it have with your issue of them not trusting you? 

“I would go for that one,” Rin interjects your conversation when he really shouldn’t, because he just broke Shinsuke. How are you supposed to continue your sad life without your robo - dad? 

Wait. 

You were supposed to be angry at them! 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, making you think it was something, and he is a dirty, dirty liar, “Just promise me you will not do something like you did to me before to anyone else.”

“You mean I shouldn’t bite off people’s ears?” you wrinkle your nose, “I know that’s illegal, I’m not stupid, no matter what your small brain claims.” 

He sighs, trying to take his hand back. You don’t let him though, holding his hand in place for the moment, before grabbing it and bringing his thumb just next to your mouth. You move before he can register what is happening: you bite it, leaving a little mark on his finger. 

He takes his hand away so fast you could swear he was bitted by a bloodthirsty demon, not his childhood friend. Dramatic bitch. What he thought would happen? There is no way in hell would just sit and obey his stupid demands. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you stick your tongue at him like the brat you are, “I’m going to bite whoever I want.” 

“You are an idiot,” he murmurs, his face completely covered by his hands, “You are such an idiot and I hate you.”

You throw your hair over your shoulder, your job well done. Osamu starts to clasp softly and you do a little bow, as Rin tries to take a photo out of embarrassed Atsu. Shinsuke is still broken and being repaired by Momjiro. Omimimi’s black eyes don’t blink. Akagi smiles awkwardly as he leans to say something to Gintama. 

So much gossips to find out. So many secret plots. Yeah, if you are super serious about the evil overlord, you need to learn how to read people’s lips. Then your second in the command, your Dragon, would never be able to betray you. 

Oh, yeah, you were supposed to be angry.

“I’m going to roast some scallions for you,” Osa always knows what, when, and how to say. 

“Forgiven,” you pout at him, a little bit unhappy that you are so easy to bribe, “But you have to stop being obnoxious. Really.”

People around your table simultaneously release their breaths.

“I’m getting tired of your drama,” Gintama sighs, “Are we in some sort of tv - show?!"

Suna throws his chopsticks at him.

“Oops, sorry, that was an accident.” 

“Hey, Rin!” Gintama takes the chopsticks that hit him flat in the face, stands up, and starts waving them around dramatically, “How was that accident?!”

“I was aiming for your eye,” Rin shrugs, his face devoid of any emotion, “You got hit in the nose.” 

At this, Gintama looks ready to fight and the only thing stopping him from that is Akagi holding the edge of his shirt. You giggle at that before you return to the problem at the hand. Promises are super important. Nobody stopped you, but not nobody stood up as well. You grimace at their cowardness.

“Someone has to swear to me, though,” you utter softly, before lifting your is a sudden revelation. Your neck hurts on the notion, but you ignore it, your eyes ending on brow ones, “Shinsuke, pinky promise me. You are the only one who has no questionable ethics.” 

Atsumu uncovers his face at that, probably wanting to start arguing with you, but you are pretty sure Sam kicked him under the table because he stays silent. Your favorite twin only sends you a gentle, encouraging smile, while Suna rolls his eyes. 

Not caring about the rest of the team, you stand up and lean forward, supporting yourself on the table with your one hand, while the other reaches to Shinsuke. You hold your pinky out to him, waiting patiently for him to wake from the stupor he still seemed to be in. Ojiro slaps gently in the back, and he finally wakes up. 

For the moment, he seems out of it, his face so red you swear it’s unhealthy. You still don’t understand what in your words caused him to become like that, but it’s not super important right now. 

What is important is the oath between all of you. 

“If you break the promise, Shinsuke,” you declare, your voice grave, “Then you have to cut your finger off. You all have to trust me, okay?”

Trust. You want to be believed in. You want them to lean on you. You don’t - you don’t want to hold anybody back. You know it will be a hard thing to achieve, but you have to try. You don’t want them to be hurt because of you.

So, yeah. It’s not childish antic on your part. It’s not a simple promise between children, you want to say, I will cut your finger off. This is the only way you can forgive them for being so foul and destroying you would be friendship. 

His brown eyes flicker for the moment but he indulges you nonetheless, rising upright from his seat to bend over in your direction. His pinky finger, much much larger than you, steadily interlaces with you. 

You take a deep breath and steel your heart. 

“ _Pinky promise,”_ he intones wholeheartedly, to your surprise, _“If I lie, I will drink 1000 needles, and cut my pinky.”_

His voice is soft, gentle. It soothes your heart. It’s nothing but a strange experience, because why something so insignificant makes you so happy? You swear you could fly. The little song, melody from your childhood, from days before you ever meet the twins. 

You weren’t stupid enough to promise anything to them, after all. 

You can’t help the smile that shows on your face when you reiterate the words anyway. 

* * *

After that, peace comes to your table. Okay, it doesn’t not, but it’s much more of a controlled, wholesome kind of chaos. Suna tries to tease Shinsuke about your little promise but is silenced by the single gaze of your captain. 

You get your scallions. With a lot of other things as well, of course. Soon, all of the tables are swarming with food as waiters and waitresses. Your buffet is served and it's hard to imagine more food. You spy so many wonderful things. You scoop everything you want to your plate, enjoying the ease of the atmosphere around you. You are a fool. You should have to know the peace never last. 

And war. War never changes.

Not when it is provoked by twins, at least. It starts innocently enough. Atsumu smashes his rice on the face of his twin, and well, there is no way Osamu will stand by. He takes a nearby bowl of miso soup and hurls it towards the blond. The one who ends getting assaulted is not Tsu, oh no, but the redhead from Shiratorizawa. What the fuck is he even doing near your table? Get close, lose a nose, bitch.

You don’t know what Matchmaker wanted. You don’t think it was something pure, but right now it doesn’t matter, because he takes the standing near soy sauce and tosses it on your silver-head friend. Osamu dodges, moving more by instinct than by anything else. You are pretty sure he wouldn’t move if he remembered you were the one behind him. But he moved. And now. Now.

The one dripping with soy sauce is you. 

You smile as you take your plate full of delicious food and hurl it towards the redhead without any remorse. Atsu and Osa follow you, standing and tossing their plates at him. He is only able to say _Oho_ before he has to move to not be fucking killed. He can dodge the of the missile, but the third one gets him. 

“Food fight!” somebody who sounds suspiciously like Rin shouts, “Every man for himself!” 

_But you are a woman_ \- 

Wait, that doesn’t matter to anybody, as chaotic athletes finally have an excuse to do something very, very stupid. It doesn’t really if the player is from your school or fromShiratorizawa. Everybody gets into it from your point of view.

Which means everybody is an enemy. You are surrounded by them, which means you can choose random direction and just throw anything you can find. Not only food. For the moment, that strategy works. For the moment. The chaos of the battle means that you have no fucking idea who manages to do a sneak attack on you, alas you find yourself on the ground, whining nonetheless. 

You are sticky from soy sauce, not talk about kilograms of rice in your hair or salad that got attached to your cheek. You also feel something uncomfortably slimy near your neck and when you reach over, you find a piece of the chicken. You throw it away as you take a salad from your cheek. Rice and soy sauce will be a little bit more tricky, but - 

And before you can end the though, the side of your stomach is meet with the blow from something looking like beef. The worst place to be attacked if you can say so yourself, only maybe because you have a gigantic bruise there. You fall to your knees, breathing heavily and trying not to cry. 

You fail. You fail hard. 

You hold in tears for about five seconds, as you lie, dead on the floor. Five whole seconds. It’s not so bad, right? Right? Okay, that’s pretty bad, but what can you do? It _hurts_. It hurts more than stepping on the lego with your bare foot or hitting your funny bone, or more to be accurate, your ulnar nerve in the elbow. A funny bone, yeah. Nothing is amusing about it, whoever named it that way, you want to just talk to him, you swear - 

Something cold lands on you. A shiver runs through your spine as you blindly try to throw it away. You should probably stand up. 

They can strike you down, but they will never truly defeat you. Yes, you will only raise better, stronger, faster. And you will take your revenge! Maybe only not now, because you want to cry for a bit. Strategic retreat is nothing to be ashamed of, after all, you think as you crawl out of the room. 

Somehow you can do so without more harm coming to your skin, though you are pretty sure somebody on your way to the door is suffering from a heart attack. You would guess that is the owner or at least manager of this fine, fine establishment you will be probably banned from. As you leave the private room that was intended for Shiratorizawa and Inarizaki, a thousand glares of other guests instantly rest on you. 

“The fuck you are watching?” you growl, your voice sounding pathetic even to your ears. You hiss at the nearby couple, fighting back the blush that threatens to appear on your face, and promptly bring yourself up. 

Tears are still falling from your face, but you refuse to give those people the satisfaction of seeing you ashamed. Limping, you go through your walk of shame to the door. You open them and leave, slamming the door shut behind you like a child throwing the tantrum. 

You can move several steps before you slide down the nearby wall. You look at your palms, smeared with food before you take Osamu’s jacket off your shoulder, and lean into it, trying to hold your sob in your throat. You exhale. Out. In. No, wait, it’s in and out. In and out. 

Their eyes, their eyes, so judging, so dreadful - Jesus Christ. In. Out. Calm down, [Name]. You are now safe. Should you stay in the room with the rest of Ina? Probably. But your stomach hurts so much, you couldn’t help it.

A miserable sound leaves your lips, so you cling to your friend’s jacket even more. It was already filthy from the food fight, but now it becomes wetter and wetter as your tears fall. You hate yourself for crying. You hate yourself for being hurt. 

_Don’t fight, because you will never win_ , said your shitty brother once. He is an asshole. He is revolting. Trash, trash, trash. Literal cockroach. Why can’t you forget his words, then? Why are you agonizing over them even now? _Pathetic,_ supplies another voice sharply, _Pathetic._ No matter how much you try, no matter how long ago they were spoken. 

You didn’t see your family for a long time, didn’t you? They would love this restaurant. So classy. So much for like them. They wouldn’t ever take you here, though. Not until you started singing again. 

_How long_? One year for your parents. It’s getting close to two, though. Shouko said they talked with her about you, but - they didn’t call you. Not even once. You wonder if that was a lie. The kind lie told by the kind woman. You ponder if they really called her. And. And _if_ they call your brother. 

You laugh through your tears. Who are you kidding? They call him. They definitely do. The last time you saw your brother, well, you think it is about three years now. You don’t know what he is doing, but you think he is still singing. He would never abandon it, not like you, never like you. So they would always be proud of him, always so - 

You are pathetic. Such a stupid reason to cry, [Name]. You can’t help it, though, no matter how wrong crying feels. Your stomach hurts so much. Stares from before hurt so much. Your thoughts hurt so much. 

You should just stay here, next to your new best friend, the wall itself, and maybe try to calm down. May perhaps, you sniff, when you are back, the food fight is over. So. You can cry for a bit. You can sulk for a bit. It’s alright, it's alright, it's alright, [Name]. 

“[Name].”

Fuck, it’s not alright after all. You sniff, as you raise your head reluctantly. Warm, olive - his eyes are olive after all - eyes look at you with apprehension as Waka offers you his hand. How did sneak up on you? Were you crying so loud you didn’t hear him? 

_Pathetic,_ screams your mind in her voice, _So pathetic_. 

“W - Whatcha doing here?” you ask him pitifully, peering from your only line of defense. Your jacket, that’s it. 

Should you take his hand? He doesn’t move, still anticipating for you to take his hand. You sniffle as you a little bit unsurely clasp it. 

“I was outside,” he answers, voice deep and calm. He doesn’t seem to mind how terrible you look as he lifts you effortlessly up, although his eyes narrow on your hair, the most noticeable victim of the wild assault. 

“Food fight,” you maffle. The desire to bite on your nails is practically overwhelming, but you fight back the nervousness, stuttering, “Way over my level.” 

You have to grind up. Maybe find some health potion. You titter at your dumb little joke, however, it sounds anxious and stressed in your ears. Waka raises one of his eyebrows at that, as he reaches to his pocket. 

“I don’t believe anybody is over your level,” he bluntly says, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. He doesn’t answer the unvoiced question, instead of taking something out of his little patch. You scratch your cheek in confusion before your unfocused gaze finally can perceive the item.

Simple handkerchief. You clutch your jacket to your chest. 

“No, I can’t take it,” you would shake your head, but you don’t want to risk it, remembering the way your stomach hurt, “It’s your private handkerchief. I can’t, Waka - san.” 

His lips curl in a small frown. He looks - well, not angry, but displeased at your words. Hello, how dare he? You are the one who should be fucking irritated. What does he think he is doing, offering his dumb handkerchief. 

“You look like you need it.” 

“I don’t want - Waka - san!” 

You nearly jump back in fright as he just simply uses his handkerchief and uses it to wipe your face. You grit your teeth, your ire plain to see, but he doesn’t care, not this time. Your face has to be so disgusting he just can’t help it. Asshole. Not only from tears but that stupid soy sauce as well. 

You are going to have a thing against it now. Seriously. Maybe you should start a war on soy sauce, you already have _casus belli_ , your very own reason to go to the war. 

“You are too stubborn,” the hypocrite tells you. You breathe with your nose, feeling annoyance flaring in you. You are the stubborn one?! He - he just manhandled you! He forced himself on you! He did something without your consent! 

And he looks so gentlemanly. 

It’s always the quiet ones. Always. 

“I think I should go to the bathroom,” you mumble, looking at now dirty cloth, “Feel so sticky. Disgusting. I probably stink like smelly fish as well.”

Waka’s mouth twitches. The audacity! How dare he?! 

“Hey, don’t laugh at me,” you point at him with your finger, “You don’t have a right to! Not after being so brutal!” 

“I’m not laughing.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” 

“My trousers are not on fire.” 

“They should be!” 

He full-on smiles now, amusement glinting in his teddy bear-like eyes. You puff at him, still irritated. Nonetheless, you follow when he starts moving, arriving next to the bathroom. You walk in and go straight to the water. 

It takes you a while to make yourself presentable, you know, but he doesn’t try to make you go faster, patiently waiting before the door. Elegantly dressed women glare as you try to make yourself presentable, but you try to ignore them (and only sniff a little). 

You exit it soon enough, your face clean, your hair a little bit damp and still full of rice, and your T-shirt dirtier than fucking floor. Waka gazes at you calmly. 

He doesn’t ask you why you cried. 

You really appreciate it. Maybe you can forgive him for being so brutal. Maybe. Probably not.

“Thank you,” you say softly, bowing and giving back his handkerchief you scrubbed clean, “For waiting and giving me this, and for helping earlier, but really, I should have punched your nose for doing something when I said no. That’s like, really, mean, Waka - san, you shouldn’t do things like that!“ 

You start to ramble, waving your arms wildly. Waka is like always, infinitely patient. Is anything even moving this man? Would he care his coach is the evil ancient overlord? Probably not. 

“You need a new shirt,” he informs you. You look down on your shirt. Yes, you need a new one. Thank goodness it’s not a white one or you would look even more miserable with the way it would become translucent with the soup spilled on you.

“Will have to change it back at the hotel,” you mutter, but Waka doesn’t take it for the answer. He takes his own Shiratorizawa jacket and drops it on your shoulders.

Without your consent, again.

You believed you were drowning in twins’ clothes. Well, you were not exactly wrong, but it makes it complicated to say how you look and feet in Waka’s blazer. It is plain gigantic on your petite form. Like it belonged to a titan, not a human. Are you lilliput? Are you one?! Is that what Swift tried to say all along?! 

“There is a shop nearby,” Waka says very calmly. You blink at him, confused, so he continues, “I will go and buy you one.”

What the hell?! What - what about consent?! He doesn’t even wait for you to answer, as he turns around and just goes. You. You are glitching like Kita because you can’t do anything for the second, just look as he leaves. It takes you a second to understand what just happened. 

Without thinking much you run after him. 

“W - wait, Waka - san! If you are going, so I am!” you scream, and thank goodness he stops, because there is no way you have enough stamina to follow him when he walks so fucking fast, “Why are you so nice anyway?! People take advantage of that! Please don’t! Be more suspicious! More selfish!” 

He waits for you as he summons an elevator. 

“Do I have to have a reason to be kind?” 

“Ugh! That’s not the problem!” you feel a sudden need for his dumb, considerate self to be hit with the Osamu’s jacket, “The world is black. People will take advantage of you. They probably do this even now, Waka - san. I’m so worried for you I’m going to die.” 

“Please don’t,” he walks into the elevator and you follow him, groaning, “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’m capable of taking care of myself.” 

“Are you?” you arch your eyebrow as your ride starts going down. Ugh. You hate the feeling of your stomach jumping up in the elevators, “How in the fuck are you supposed to be fine in this weather without your stupid jacket?! It’s cold outside!” 

“I’m fine.”

He is not. He is definitely lying. However, when you move to take his blazer off, his hand comes to your shoulder, stopping you. What. What. Again?! How he is so - so - so bold, kind, and irritating at the same time! You don’t want his stupid jacket! 

You nearly throw your hands in frustration, but you hold yourself back as your elevator arrives at ground level. Sighing heavily, you follow Waka out of it and out of the building without complaining. Even though you want to complain very much. The cold air of Sendai hits you the moment you leave. Stupid April and stupid weather! You cross your hands around your shoulder, conveniently bringing the warm jacket even closer. 

“Where do you even want to buy a shirt at this time?” you ask him, scowling, “Is there a fashion district close or something?” 

Waka doesn’t even blink as he points somewhere. You narrow your eyes at the direction. There, around the corner is a convenience shop. 

“Do they even sell clothes at konbini?” you question doubtfully. not remembering if they have clothes at your shop. Not that you spend a lot of time just looking at the products there, that would be too awkward. 

“They do,” he nods, starting to go, “I remember my father buying one before a business meeting.” 

“Why did he need one anyway?” you follow, trying to keep up with his long legs. Gosh. This man doesn’t simply walk. He conquerers the ground with his every stride. 

Even when he seems to be embarrassed. 

Wait, what. He seems flustered? That he does. He is not full-on blushing, but the way he fidgets with fingers of his left hand, the way he refuses to meet your eyes, the way he tries to move faster. Something is not right. 

“He was playing volleyball with me.”

His voice sounds nearly shy. You peer at him and swear his ears are read. Okay. You were annoyed a minute ago, but you cannot help it. That’s cute. You giggle, and the noise makes him hasten his pace.

“Hey, walk slower, Waka - san,” you demand, latching into his arm, “Some of us don’t have legs longer than fucking Mount Fuji.” 

“Do you want me to carry you?” he looks down on you. You roll your eyes. 

“No. You will get dirty 'cuz of my shirt.”

“I don’t mind.” 

You groan. He is probably going to do so, so you have to find something to distract him. The shop is close, but not so close - it will take you another minute or two, so - there is a question, the one you wanted to ask before Puffy interrupted your conversation. Well, that’s a good moment as any.

You just hope you aren’t breaking any sort of taboo by speaking about it. 

“You are left-handed, aren’t you?” 

He simply nods at that, abandoning his plans to lift you forcefully. You would roll your eyes, but you are too busy trying to see if he is angry at you. It doesn’t seem so, so you continue your line of questioning. 

“I thought so,” you bring your finger to your mouth in wonder, “That’s awesome, you know. I never meet anyone who was left-handed before. Is it hard?”

You read a lot about left-handedness, surprisingly. Mostly because the twins tried to become left-handed, once, thinking it was super cool. Didn’t end well. Well, at least you laughed at their stupid faces. 

“I can manage,” he tells you calmly, not looking to be particularly insulted, before he adds, because he have to, “It is useful in volleyball.”

“You like volleyball, don’t you? You know, I wanted to say it before, but you were super cool at the court. I swear your spike has blown my hair away. And my mind. It's dangerous, you know! Don't sign up for military service, please.” 

He smiles again. Huh. It makes you think of Atsu. Osa loves volleyball as well, but there is something in Tsu that screams that blond would die if he was unable to play more. You worry about it sometimes. Injuries are not exactly uncommon and your friend loves to overdo anything volleyball. 

Ushiwaka is the same way, probably. He would die without this sport. You twist your lips in a smile. Whatever he wants to say seems to disappear, as he lightly shakes his head, before he enters the convenience shop.

It’s pretty empty, thank goodness, so nobody gives you an evil glare as the two of you move into the shop deeper into the shop. And yes, there are a lot of clothes. Sweat drops from your forehead. 

“I never knew they offered such variety in konbini,” you mumble to yourself, “Like, I get those elegant-ass shirts for meeting and such, but why the hell do they have cute little shirts? Like, are all konbinis like that?”

“They are.” 

“I feel like the clerk at my store just fucking hates me.” 

He definitely thinks you are a weirdo. Your momentary distraction is used by Waka, who takes one of the shirts and goes straight to the cashier, not even waiting for you. You blink rapidly, before you beeline it to him, not caring for the pain it causes in your old, tired body. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” you tug at his arm, trying to stop him from pulling money out of his wallet, “I can’t let you pay for it!” 

“Why not?”

“Because!” you answer eloquently. He waits for you to continue, not satisfied with your answer, so you groan, “I don’t know how to pay you back! You already have done so much!” 

“I’m doing it because I want to.”

He tries to guilt-trip, doesn’t he? Well, you were raised with masters of that art! 

“You are too fucking nice. How I’m supposed to thank you?! How I’m supposed to repay you?! Fuck off, I’m paying for that!”

“You don’t have to repay me.” 

The clerk at the corner looks so done. They probably don’t pay her enough to dear with little shits like you. It’s not like it will make you surrender, though. Waka’s arguments are stupid, and you can buy your first yourself! Why does everybody treat you like a child?! 

“No fucking - “

“Oh, is that [Name]?!” 

Your argument is suddenly brought to the close, as you whip your head in the direction of the voice calling your name. There, just at the doors, stands the ray of the Sun. He beams at you and you blink rapidly, afraid of getting burned. 

“Nishinoya - san?” you ask hesitantly. He nods at you, happily, and you can’t help, you smile as you greet him, “Hello, Nishinoya - san.”

“Hey! You look much better!” he takes a step forward, his grin still brighter than the sun, “Not counting that bandage! What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Twins being twins,” you start to explain, but the voice of the clerk makes you turn around rapidly. Wakatoshi takes the package out of the corner and you wheeze in indignation, “What the hell! Waka - san, how dare you use my distraction?!” 

He doesn’t seem ashamed. Not even a little bit. How he can be so - ugh, so aggravating?! You take anything nice you said about him already. He is a monster. You hate him. You are going to deck him. 

“I bought it already.”

You know! And that’s why you are so angry! How dare he?! How are you even supposed to react when a stranger, a person you meet only yesterday, is so kind, so nice, so caring? It feels wrong to only say _Thank you_. Too little too late. But what else can you do? How else can you react?

Complain, of course. Complain a lot. So, you do just that. You remember thinking he would understand you easily and want to punch the past you. Oh, how wrong you were. You wish you could slap your past version. He doesn’t get you at all. Or he does but finds your opinion irrelevant. 

Rude. 

“Hm? What’s going on, [Name]?” Nishinoya narrows his eyes at Waka, “Is he harassing you?”

He looks really to fight for your honor. While you are pretty damn sure you don’t possess anything like that, it’s still really sweet of him. 

“He does!” you complain loudly, “He is too nice!” 

“I’m not,” disagrees the older boy with you as he shakes his head, "Everybody would do the same at my place." 

“Not true, Waka - san,” you squint your eyes at him dangerously, “You are too damn nice.”

You hear the sigh of the clerk nearby. She looks tired of you shit. You can’t help it, sorry, not sorry! Who lets this gorgeous, kind man walk into your life and bully you? You don’t want him. Where is your receipt?! 

You don’t need anybody to buy your things. You love free things, okay, you are a cheap bitch, that’s true. Not like that, though. If he decided to buy it for you at a whim, it would be totally okay. But that - that - that feels wrong. Like you are using him. You don’t want to be a person like that. 

Your evil rule will be very kind and considerate. 

“W - Waka - san?!” Nishinoya stutters, baffled. You blink. What’s wrong with your nickname for him? He said to call him that himself. You gently tilt your head at the boy, who seems to be in some state of shock or agony, or both. You have no idea why, though. Boys. Boys are mysterious. 

Ushiwaka, who was not looking at the shorter boy earlier, now directs his gaze at him. He seems to assess him before he bows his head a little, “Ushijima Wakatoshi."

“Nishinoya Yuu! It’s nice to meet you!” he doesn’t really sound like he is happy to make the acquaintance of Waka, and you don’t fault him, because this teddy bear can be mean, “You don’t call him by his last name, so call me with my first name as well, [Name].”

“But aren’t you older?” you tilt your head in wonder. You don’t even know why you think he is older. He just somehow feels that way. Gives this good, old vibe of an older brother. 

“I don’t care about stuff like that,” he grins, pointing his thumb ups, “But feel free to call me senpai!” 

“Yuu - senpai?” you try. 

Nishinoya explodes in happiness. Literally. He jumps up as he becomes all sparkles, twinkles, and little atomic bombs. Huh. The _Little Boy_ was the codename for the one hat that ended on Hiroshima. It somehow fits Yuu so much. Nishinoya Yuu, an atomic bomb, destroying everything in his path. 

“Senpai,” your tear your gaze from Nishinoya’s bright gaze to see Waka calmly boring his eyes into Nishinoya.

Is he trying to intimidate him? What? That’s strange. It doesn’t work anyway. At that word, Nishinoya becomes a star before your very own eyes. Sunglasses, you need sunglasses! Oh gosh, anything, please somebody save your soul from this brightest. He is no longer an atomic bomb. He is a supernova. 

You are going to die from this radiance. 

“You - you - you! I’m buying you both Gari Gari Ice Pops! Pear! Pear favor, because it’s the best!” 

_But I don’t want pear flavor, mom._

“Oh, can’t I get cream puff instead?” 

* * *

You get your cream puff Gari Gari Ice Pop. 

You spend a little more time with Nishinoya, eating the ice cream he bought for you and listening to his chatter. He and Waka got surprisingly well, though you are pretty sure no person on the earth could hate Nishinoya.

Yuu even walks you back all the way to the restaurant, before he says goodbye to both of you, just as hyper and radiant as ever. You go back to the bathroom, where you change into your new shirt. It’s way too cute from something from the convenience shop. Baggy and pink, it has several strawberries around its’ design.

So adorable. Waka had a really good style sense, it seems.

“How do I look?” you spin around dramatically, showcasing your new shirt, “Cute, right? Cute, cute, cute.” 

“Cute,” he agrees with you easily enough. The word sounds strange on his tongue, spoken in such a deep tone. It makes you giggle and you swear he smiles for a second. 

It’s still not fair he didn’t let you pay him back, though. You will have to plot something to showcase your gratitude. You hand him over his Shiratorizawa jacket and well, you are on your way back to hell. 

When you finally return, the restaurant is a mess. Food is everywhere: on the floor, on the ceiling, on the windows, on people’s faces, their clothes and hair. Somebody actually broke the tanks holding the fishes and the window. So, we have water with sad, out of the water fishes all over the floor. And glass. Can’t forget about the glass. 

It seems the fight still didn’t end because people are still screaming and throwing things around. Maybe you should just run around. You look up to Waka, who shakes his head and steps ahead, so you sigh and follow him. Or at least you try to.

Dead fishes. 

_Your_ dead fishes on the floor. 

You scream in horror. You nearly forgot about them, but now, you see them. Your Elizabeth! Your Vlad! You fall to your knees, not caring about shards of glass around you, as you slowly take your beautiful fishes away and throw them into a nearby water source. The glass of water, that’s, the one you find nearby. 

And then, you notice that Elizabeth doesn’t move. 

You think you are going to cry.

“Blood Countess?” you try softly, "Eliza-chan, are you alright?" 

She doesn’t answer, of course, she doesn’t, she is fucking dead. The cause: homicide. You feel tears in your eyes, but before you can release an agonizing cry out of desperation, little Vlad the Impaler starts to move. 

“Vlad-chan?” you try, and yes, he moves, he lives! Without thinking more, you reach to the glass, and delicately take the body of the Blood Countess away. You place it on the surviving table before you look back at your little fishy.

He swims happily, not understand what great tragedy has just happened. You say a silent prayer for Elizabeth Bathory, the most beautiful redfish to ever grace this forsaken land. Well, you try to, but somebody in their infinite wisdom decided to flip the table which has a griddle on. Or at least this is what you think happened as you look at the fire that appeared out of nowhere. It could just spontaneously lit up, who knows? 

You hear screams around you. You feel somebody pulling you and Vlad to the exit hastily. That's Waka, you realize, so you let him drag your away, his arm surrounding your shoulder as leads you away from fire. You look at little Vlad. He still swims, not knowing about the pandemonium around you. Oh, to be so innocent! 

“This fucking sucks,” you decide quietly to yourself, bringing the older boy's attention to yourself. You shake your head as you ask him in a small voice, “Do you see Atsu and Sam, Waka - san?” 

He nods, coaxing you just to them, out of the burning room. The twins look at Waka appreciative as they take you in their own arms. He nods at them curtly, raises his hand at you in a wave, and disappears in the flood of people getting out of the restaurant. You wave back with your fingers as people start to run towards elevators.

“Let’s take the stairs,” blond twin proposes before he notices you are holding a glass. He squints his golden eyes at Vlad, “What’s that? Did you steal a fish, sunshine?”

“I saved his fucking life,” you sniff, raising your sleeve to your nose, caressing it to comfort yourself a bit, “They can’t take care of their fishes properly.” 

Osamu yawns at that.

“He is very cute, [Name],” he says as he takes your free hand, “I think we are getting banned at our second restaurant in Miyagi.”

Yeah, you assume burning it up will do that. 

* * *

JESUS CHRIST. 

Writing this chapter was so hard. This monster is 8k words long, so I hope you are enjoying it. But yeah, this is the end of the second day in Miyagi. Only two and we go to Tokyo! Never thought I would get so far…

Hope you enjoyed it :) Thank you for reading!


	30. In which Vlad the Impaler makes his first appearance (and you really shouldn't set that one building on fire).

“You know you can’t take it with you, right?”

Your lips twitch. Unfortunately, the nearest item in your proximity is your open pack of chips and you refuse to use it in such a sinful manner, even if that would finally teach Atsumu a lesson he so desperately needs. So, yeah, you are not going to throw it on him, he is safe. The reason why is very simple: you don’t waste food. 

The memories of yesterday's food fight return at once, making you flinch a bit. So, okay, about that _wasting food_ thing. You don’t waste food most of the time. No, no, no, that sounds wrong. You shake your head, remembering how many restaurants you have demolished. You waste food a little! How about that? 

A huff of air leaves your mouth, as you wish you could hit your forehead against something hard. Who are you lying to? It's only you, you, and yourself in your mind, and both of those personas know that you squandered plenty of food over the course of your life, though yesterday's events may take the cake. Like, food fights are plenty careless, you have to admit it, but it’s not like you have started it.

It’s all Cupid’s fault. Fuck him. You have more important things to do.

“His name is Vlad III Tepes,” you say with indignation, grimacing because you can’t do anything to your so-called friend when he is so far. You are not going to leave a very comfortable spot on Osamu’s lap you found yourself in, not when his hand feels so nice on your hair, so you can only continue to speak, “He is really cute and I love him.” 

Now you are just wasting your time. It is not like Atsu would understand the feeling of loving somebody else than himself. Little Vladdie, the white fish you saved from the impending doom and death, is with you for two days already. Okay, okay, okay, maybe it's just one if you don’t count yesterday, but that honestly doesn’t matter. You have already vowed to protect and care for him until the day you perish. 

So, probably never, if your plans to become the evil overlord work and you attain immortality. What a world it would be, ruled both by you and your cute, little fish. The said fish is swimming right now back in your room, comfortable in his new home. He even ate a little bit and looked absolutely adorable doing that. Just chomp-chomp with his little fish-mouth!

Needless to say, the hotel’s service was very confused when you asked for a big bowl and fish food, but they didn’t ask any questions as they handed those items, so you don't particularly care.

“You don’t know anything about taking care of fish,” if Atsu tries to talk to your common sense, then he is very much on a fool's errand. You lost your common sense the moment you became the manager of this shitty team, “You are going to kill it, and then you are going to cry.”

Excuse you, who is going to cry? Not you, you don’t cry. You don't care about him or his opinion, or how he nervously rubs the back of his neck because you don’t feel bad about it. You don’t, okay? You don't feel bad about it so much that you are going to take a chip and _eat it_.

“Shinsuke, make Atsumu go away,” you mumble, chips crunching between your teeth as you turn away from the blond. Osamu pats your hair as you pout, “Vlad - chan is not going to die, because I love him.” 

“Of course he is not going to die,” the better twin agrees, as he reaches for chips with his free hand, “Tsumu is fucking stupid like always, ignore him, [Name].”

“Hey, Samu, what the heck?!” 

Shinsuke lifts his eyes from his creation and that’s all it takes, just one look to make the twins go quiet. Truly, the power this man wields makes you weak in the knees, so it's good you are laying right now. You smile mischievously, waving your fingers at the captain. He nods, as he returns to his piece of art. You think he is crocheting, but you are not sure what. 

Victory is victory, though, no matter how underhand your tactics may be.

Then, you swear Momjiro says something under his nose. You raise your head, wanting him to repeat the words louder, but before you can ask, your team's mom decides to open your mouth, cutting you away with a polite question, “What are you knitting, Shinsuke?”

His tone seems a little bit strangely hasted for you, but it’s not like you are going to question it. Mostly because you are interested in the answer as well, so you bob your head, thrilled to hear what your captain is doing. 

Yes, you can move your neck now! Not as energetic as you used to do, but you will take it, being a cheap bitch and all. The good news is you can move your head without crying out in pain today. Bad news, it still hurts, just not as much. The side of your stomach is not much better, still in an awful shade of black, so you are becoming a little bit concerned. 

You are still not even considering going to the doctor. Not now. Not ever. You would rather die. 

“I'm crocheting,” Shinsuke corrects his friend swiftly, “I’m trying to do something for my granny’s birthday.” 

_That’s so sweet._

“You are the best, Shinsuke,” you say, smiling lightly. He flusters at that, his gaze awkwardly returning to his task. Okay, you didn’t want to embarrass him, fuck, “Can you do small clothes for Vlad - chan?” you ask awkwardly as you change the subject, spinning a strand of your hair around the finger, “Like, really adorable one. He is already so cute, he would look so much cuter in them!” 

It’s a stupid question, you know that, but for a second the thought of your companion in a little nice tuxedo is very compelling. You feel your eyes sparkling with wonder, as you train them towards the captain. Shinsuke is still a little bit pink as he clears his throat to answer. 

“It is not something difficult,” he decides calmly, looking intently at his little work. You want to clap your hands in excitement, but before you can, he raises his voice, destroying your dreams, “I could crochet them, but I don’t think Vlad would be able to swim in them, [Name]."

Well, that’s rough, buddy. You and Vlad both have to live on without adorable clothes for him. You nod your head as you pursue your lips, feeling a little bit disappointed. Not at Shinsuke, of course, never at him. Just. So. Nobody died of something like that, probably.

Wait. You are talking about dying because you don't clothes. Stupid [Name], people can die of hypothermia. Can fish die of hypothermia? Huh. That’s a good question. You don’t know. That’s something to read about then. What if your poor, poor fishy is cold in his small tank? Well, you have to ask Uncle Google later.

“Thank you anyway, Shinsuke,” the words roll out of your tongue smoothly, even as your thoughts are racing. Osamu fingers, you feel, run through your hair once more and you lean into the touch, whispering wistfully, “That was a silly thought, right? So silly."

Osamu doesn't answer, only humming in content. You don't mind that, not really, as your question was a rhetorical one.

“It was super dumb," Rin agrees with you dryly, not even looking up from his phone, "And so fucking cute, [Name][Name]. You have to stop being so adorable. You are literal candy at this point, dummy.” 

You feel a blush blossoming on your face as the backhand compliments hit you, so you roll over, hiding your face in Osa’s legs. Your best friend doesn't mind in the slightest, just waits a bit before his hand returns to your hair and caresses it comfortingly.

Osamu, you decide, is the only good person left on this accursed planet. Mister Pretty Girl could learn from him. Pretty Girl, Pretty Girl, your mind repeats mockingly, Shut up, you pretty boy and look in the mirror instead!

“She is a candy girl,” the silver-headed twin agrees with his black-haired friend, making him cheer up, “Hm, probably even sweeter. Sweeter than honey too.”

You take everything you said back. He is the worst, absolutely worst. You feel your blush deepens, so you nudge your head on his things, trying to cover yourself even more as you argue back.

“Sam-chan, that’s too much. You know that I'm not really cute," your voice comes out too meekly to make a real difference, but Sam, like always, hears you without any problem. 

“You are, marshmallow girl.” 

You hear Atsumu’s groan and honestly, you feel you could join him this time. Why are Osamu and Rin working together to make a blushing fool out of you? Why are they teasing you? What did you do to deserve such treatment?! Not counting nearly burning the restaurant, you did nothing wrong in your life, maybe ever. 

Ach, yeah. About that, maybe just, focus on that, instead of your friends ridiculing you. Your coaches, yeah, they, ekhm -

Coach Kurosu looked ready to kill every one of you way more than he normally does. You swear he wouldn’t stop even on Kita. Yeah, so, Shinsuke also participated in your epic food fight. Why? You have no idea, but it caused your teacher to cry a little bit. Needless to say, some actions were supposed to be taken. None of you cared about that last night. You started to become concerned when the first thing the moment you woke up, you were told to stay in rooms and don’t leave.

So, the first thing the three of you did was leave your room to go to Rin’s. You weren’t told in what rooms you were supposed to stay, after all. The problem was that Rin didn’t want to stay in his room either. The solution to that particular problem was easy to find. You descended onto Shinsuke and Aran’s chamber. 

Momjiro only sighed when he saw who was at his doors before he let you all in without complaint. Now you are supposedly watching some sort of boring TV show. Talking with _your friends_ is much more entertaining, although you swear if somebody tries to harm your little fishy, you are going to slap the bitch no matter how much you care for them.

“It’s a Halfmoon Betta according to the internet,” Rin announces to the world, making you lift your head, “It’s worth about thirty dollars.” 

You frown. Vlad is worth so much more in your heart. 

“[Name], you have stolen thirty dollars,” Osa retorts, sounding very proud, “Good job, sugar.” 

_Marshmallow? Sugar?_ He is going to call you onigiri soon at some point, is he not? And then he is going to complain because he is hungry. You lift your head, reach over and pat his cheek. He answers by taking it into his own and pressing a light kiss into your knuckles before releasing it and smiling mischievously.

You giggle, taking your hand away. SamSam feels somewhat touchy today. He is much more affectionate and clingy than he is normally, but it’s not like you are going to whine about that. You love being close to your friends. Hugs, holding hands, kisses on your knuckles? Sign you the hell up, officer. 

You just wish you knew why he is that way today. Like, did something bad happen? Do you need to kick somebody? You totally will, he needs to only say a word.

He stays quiet though, just looking at you with adoration, so for now, your best guess is that stress is finally getting to him. You could totally understand if it was because of it. The days in Sendai _are_ more stressful than days spent in the Underground. 

“You have burned down the building. That is much worse, Osamu,” Shinsuke points up mercilessly. It is you or it is suddenly very cold? You bring yourself up and hug Osa's shoulders, who instantly takes the clue and holds his arms open to you, ignoring the nuclear wasteland that became your friend. It's not his first and not his last burned thing.

“You are not selling my Vlad - chan, RinRin," you mutter into your friend's arms, "Nu-nu, no way, nope, you say that money goodbye, you miser."

Your little Dracula is worth much more than thirty American dollars! That’s a paltry sum to pay for so much love, attention, and care. 

“It’s not burned down, Captain,” Atsumu tosses a chip into the air and tries to catch it with his mouth. He can do it, to your utter despair, and as he spies your eyes, he waves it with his lips before swallowing it down his throat, “It’s only a little bit scorched.” 

He, of all people, would know that the best. You are pretty sure Atsu at this point can proudly write up arsonist on his CV because he really likes fire. Like, he likes it a lot, not that your mind. 

Your captain doesn’t react to that at all, too preoccupied with his crocheting. Ojiro, on the other hand, doesn't have anything else to hide behind, and so, he sighs loudly. Out of all people in the room, he decides to pick up on you.

“Do you think you can take it to Tokyo?” Aran sides with the evil twin, making you wheeze in outrage, “It will not survive the road, not to even talk about Amagasaki. It’s simply too far, [Name]-san.”

You gaze at the traitor, feeling hurt. How dare he? You trusted him! Why is your team’s mom preferring his other child? Why is he after you with something so insignificant as logic and reason, when you have the power of love and friendship on your side?

“In a bottle,” you scowl at him as you answer truthfully. You smirk at their bewildered gaze, escaping from Osamu's arms and taking the seat on the edge of the bed. You cross both your legs and arms as you taunt him, “See, loser? I thought about everything. That way I won’t have to hold it the whole way.” 

“Let her have Vlad if it makes her happy,” Osamu joins up, lifting his body slowly from the bed and reaching towards you to take your waist into his hands and rests his chin on your shoulder, “It's not like it hurts anybody."

Sam is a little heavy on your shoulder, but he is your friend, so you don't exactly care, only raising your hand to reach over and pat his head. You sense him stiffening on the touch for a second before he eases up into it, humming pleasantly under your palm.

“It’s going to die,” Atsumu bumps into his brother’s shoulder, “She is going to cry. Samu, you hate seeing our sunshine cry.” 

Why is he manipulating his twin by using _your_ emotions? That is so low, you are not going to even grace it with an answer. Instead, you go for pinching his arm and he hisses quietly before he returns the gesture on yours. You frown and that’s the moment Osamu decides to step in by slapping his twin’s neck.

“She is going to cry if we don’t let her keep him,” he declares, speaking as if he is explaining stuff to a five-year-old, "You really are stupid, Tsumu."

You arch your eyebrow at that. Okay, why are they acting as if you are a crybaby? It's not so easy to make you cry, no matter what they believe! Really, really, really. You swear on your black soul. Yesterday, well, yesterday was just a bad day for you, okay? Miyagi is stupid.

You tap his nose, pouting.

“You spoil her too much!” Atsumu accuses his twin as he elbows him. It causes Osamu to stagger a little straight into you, so the two of you fall together.

Atsumu have a fucking luck that you don't land on the floor, but instead, go left, staggering on the soft covers. It’s nice you were actually on Shinsuke’s bed, so you don’t end up on something cold and hard, but you have another problem entirely and that problem is Osa, as much as you hate to think about him as any sort of nuisance. He just lands on you and you are already hurt, damn it.

“Fuck you, AtsuAtsu,” you whine lowly, “Fuck you so much.” 

“It’s called being doting,” you feel Osamu’s weight disappear from above you. He lifts you, setting you between his legs before he goes for an embrace. You don’t complain, his arms warm around you, as he continues to speak glaring at his twin, “You should try that sometimes. She’s fucking injured, you fucktard.” 

He sounds a little bit angry and you don’t blame him at all. To reiterate his point you moan loudly. Or rather, you whine something suspiciously sounding familiar to a word _fucker_. Atsumu, to his credit, looks a little bit ashamed by his action. He probably didn’t think about that. He never fucking thinks, after all.

You wave it off, forgiving him already. 

“Okay, then how about you give it to the kid?” Suna’s voice sounds like the opening crack of the ancient gates which held evil from devastating the world before ultimately failing. It’s nearly endearing they think they would be able to part you and Vlad. 

“We’re not giving the love of my life to some random person on the street," you whip your head at him, “The hell, RinRin?”

“He is not a random kid," Rin arches his eyebrow on you, placing his phone down, "I’m talking about the one who is already developing a crush on you.” 

Yeah, you call _sikes_ on that.

“So you fucking imagined one.” 

You hiss at him, angery once again. It's just like w - with _Pretty girl_. H - he’s teasing you! He really should stop before people think it’s something more. Like you did for the whole five seconds. The embarrassment you feel at that memory only fuels your hate. 

No one has a crush on you. And if they claim otherwise, they are probably acting up to make a fool out of you. 

Because.

 _Because_. 

You know yourself, okay. You understand yourself better than anyone on this planet. There is nothing attractive about you. People may call you cute or adorable, but there are girls out here much, much prettier than you. Your personality also leaves a lot to be desired. Boys - because you are pretty sure you are mostly interested in boys - want girls who are different from you. 

Atsu had a girlfriend once. You don’t remember her name, sue you, but you remember she was elegant and _hot_. She was your total opposite if you think about that. She was taller than you, moved elegantly, with grace. She cooked him bentos, didn’t need him to order her meals, or to hold her hand constantly. She didn’t curse at all. You are pretty sure she was perfect. 

Boys wanted girls like her, not you. Not a gremlin with a foul tongue, who cannot do anything by herself. 

T-they even k-kissed on the lips. This memory makes you a little faint because kissing on the lips is something out of shoujo mangas or otome games, not reality. _Sucking their tongues in, so fucking gross,_ Osamu commented, covering your eyes and leading you away from that macabre. Atsumu joined you very late that day to your utmost embarrassment and Sam's well-placed kick. So, yeah, you don’t have a lot of experience with boys, though you know about crushes. 

There is the thing: Crushes suck anyway. Who needs to confess your feelings instead of bottling them away until they disappear from your life? Not you, that’s for sure. Like, you had about three of them in your life. All were stupid. All of them! 

One of them was on Kakashi Hatake. Okay, he is still your crush. It's a little hard to let go of somebody as smexy as him. You could totally see yourself dating Kakashi, if only he was real. He was not which made your passing fancy dumb and childish. 

Your second infatuation - well, it’s embarrassing to even think about, but now, you have to, because of Rin. You groan as you remember the boy from your childhood, the one holding a strong resemblance to Kakashi. The said resemblance was why you started talking to him in the first place and why you started liking him.

Which, by the way, was totally awfully, because that boy was such a rude bitch, always complaining about you, talking how stupid you were and even pulling your french braid and making your mother angry.

To be clear, the only thing you liked about him was his appearance. That's what you will ever confess to, anyway. Somebody could bring a knife to your throat and you would still refuse to say you were fond of him until your last breath. Nothing particular was attractive about the boy who always held you in such contempt.

(You used to be afraid, so afraid to go out on the stage, to feel the judging eyes on you and your parents were never nearby, just waiting for you to win and then to take you back. So it was only him and you, behind the stage, with other contestants.

His glimmering eyes. The warmest smile that he always had for you. The long, soft fingers that held your hand.

_Idiot, what are you afraid of? There is no way in hell you are not going to win._

And then, it felt as you could do anything. )

You hated so many things about that little brat. You hated having to hear him talk passionately about music. You hated spending time with him. You hated the way he would play and sing, so talented, so bright against the shadows behind the stage. You hated how would laugh at you, hand on your head, as he ruffled your hair. Yeah, you just hated him so, so much. 

~~You hated how you never said goodbye.~~

Lord Satan, he was such a cocky bastard _. Oh, you never heard about Chopin? What a shame, idiot. You didn't know about Beethoven? Really? Why I am still talking with you? Listen, I know that stupidity supposedly has to have a limit, but yours don't! You are seriously asking me if Mozart was a cake?_

Oh, if the bitch could only see you now. You know all about Chopin, Beethoven, and Mozart! He would so go down. You feel yourself biting down on your lip as you reminisce. You don’t miss him, like, not at all. He is probably just as rude, just as stupid and ugly as ever. So you don’t feel any sorrow for your unrequited, long-lost love.

Your third crush was much more interesting, anyway. It’s Leonardo Di Caprio. You never got over this one. Who could blame you, though? So, yeah. Crushes are stupid. End of the discussion. 

“I don’t feel like telling then,” RinRin deadpans, “But you know, I think I’m starting to be jealous of that fish.”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. Really, he is envious of your little Vlad, the very same he wanted to sell. Why the fuck would he? Vladie just lost his sister! Poor, poor Eliza. You wish you could go to her funeral with him, but the moment you raised that point to coach Kurosu, he profoundly refused. Did that stupid restaurant even give her one? They probably didn’t. 

Fuckers.

“Hey, Rin - kun, you are super forward lately,” you hear Atsumu’s voice going into his _stab a bitch_ tone, “Want to tell us why do you exactly want to be like a little fish my dear, dear childhood friend owns?”

“He is going to die. I want to die too.”

You roll your eyes. That makes sense and you expected nothing else from him. Atsumu did not, as he throws Shinsuke’s pillow at him. Very mature behavior of your friend, you have to admit. You roll your eyes harder. 

“Don’t start a fight, Atsumu,” Shinsuke lifts his eyes from his work again, “You are going to destroy a second room.” 

You giggle at the face your friend makes at your captain’s words. Get rekt, AtsuAtsu. The obliteration of Atsumu’s pride doesn’t change one thing, though. How are you supposed to transport Vlad? Mail? Nope, that seems very irresponsible. You will not let Vlad die because couriers can’t do their job properly. So. Bottle option? Nobody liked it. Holding a tank on your knees? Ugh. Very uncomfortable.

You hate to admit it, but the only option seems to be - 

“Who would I give Vlad?” you murmur, the words nearly burning your tongue. You hate it so much, “I don’t trust anybody here. Not the zoo shop. Not the restaurant. I want him to have a nice home at least.” 

A nice home without you. Life sucks. It sucks so much. Just like crushes. You shift your position in Osamu’s arms so you are a little bit more comfortable. He headpats you again, but you sniff anyway, sulking silently. All of you seem to be quiet for the moment before the silence is abruptly interrupted by Shinsuke’s voice. 

“How about Ushiyama?" you blink your eyes and he hastily corrects himself, "I meant Ushijima.” 

Waka? You raise your finger to your mouth in silent wonder. Waka, huh. You hate to admit it, but you would trust Waka with your fish. He is so kind, that he would probably take good care of Vlad. Yeah, Waka is a good choice if you have to choose somebody.

 _But._

You wince. You fucking owe him so much already. If you would have asked him for one more thing, it would have felt dirty. Like you are using him, again, just like his coach does. He would probably let you because he is a good person. Your new T-shirt, the one with strawberries. You are still unsure what to do with it. For now, it’s going to be washed by the hotel’s staff. 

“I can ask him,” Shinsuke offers easily when you stay silent, “We exchanged numbers before the game.” 

Wait, wait, wait! It’s happening too fast! You still didn’t come with terms of parting with him, and he wants to give him away to a person you cannot thank him enough already? You don’t have time to think about that more, though, as suddenly somebody knocks on the room’s door. You blink, raising your head at the door. Which is open. Without any indication that should the intruder enter.Fucking rude.

Into the room crawls Gintama, so you guess it makes sense. He doesn’t even say anything, just pouts like the child he is.

“Hey, Shinsuke, Aran!” Akagi smiles at them. As he moves forward, pushed by Kosaku, he notices you and becomes ever happier, “You are already here!” 

_Already? It’s their room_? You tilt your head in bafflement. 

“If it doesn’t include a group seppuku then I don’t care,” Rin deadpans, returning to looking at his phone, playing ignorance. You know better to do the same and share a glance with both of the twins. Osamu doesn't really care, content to play with your hair while Atsumu leans on his twin like on the sofa.

Yeah, you have a bad feeling about this. 

Shinsuke lifts a single eyebrow. Omimimimi nods at him, as the rest of the team somehow clutter inside. What is that? Some of them are already eyeing your pack of chips! You growl at them, making the first-years shriek in fear. That makes you snort. If they can’t fight for chips they shouldn’t come so close, cowards. 

“Coach Kurosu wanted us to meet here to talk about yesterday,” Kosaku tells you, sitting near you on the bed. Osamu starts to move towards the wall, dragging you with him, “Hey, why are you going away, Osamu?” 

“I don’t want to sit near you,” he responds without any doubt in his voice, reaching for your chips, “Tsumu, stop being a nuisance to society and come here."

His twin, surprisingly, complies, crawling just near you. And it’s good he does because it takes only five minutes for volleyball players to occupy every seat in the room. It’s rather stuffy now, but you have to hold on for now. At least you didn’t end on the floor like Rin. Not that he cares. He looks perfectly content here, toying with his phone. Shinsuke decided to stop crocheting. 

You wait for five minutes.

And then another five minutes. 

“Aren’t we legally allowed to leave now?” Rin questions, raising his voice over the chaos of teenagers in the room, “It’s fifteen minutes already. Go away, leave us alone, whatever.” 

“Shut up, Suna,” comes the answer of Coach Oomi, who appeared in the doors, “We are angry.”

“Can you even feel anger, Oomi - sensei?”

Oomi doesn’t answer, smiling cheerfully and coming into the room. Kurosu follows him, looking even grumpier than normal. He scrutinizes all of you with his cold gaze. It would be intimidating, but yeah, no, Shinsuke better. 

“Demons,” he starts solemnly. 

You wait. Everybody waits. 

He doesn’t say _and Kita_. 

Oh god. You are in trouble. 

“I talked with the Headmaster about what happened yesterday.”

Does he have to go with those dramatic pauses? Like, are you supposed to be scared? The headmaster of Ina is in love with the volleyball club. What is he going to do? Take your stadium away? Please do. You will even help.

“He was disappointed with all of you.”

“That’s a lie, Kurosu - sensei,” Atsumu grin is full of superiority and hubris, “We all know the headmaster loves volleyball too much to even think about that.” 

There is a momentary silence.

“Yes, he didn’t care,” Kurosu admits, sighing deeply, “He is going to pay for everything out of his pocket as the donation to the volleyball club, so you don’t have to worry about that. But.”

Suna groans.

“I don’t like it.”

“You shouldn’t like it, Suna,” Oomi’s words are full of joy, even though he sounds like a grim reaper, “There are going to be consequences. Nobody likes the consequences.” 

“That’s what she said,” Rin finger guns at the younger coach. You swear he looks to be so done with your bullshit for the moment he loses his ever-present smile. Some people snort at them, so you use that moment to ask a very important question of your other teacher. 

“Are you finally retiring?” your eyes are twinkling mischievously, “Congratulations, sensei!” 

“No, unfortunately. We can’t just let you kids’ do whatever you want to,” he rubs his cheek when all of you look at him doubtfully. He clears his throat awkwardly, “Shiratorizawa is punishing their students, so we have to do it too.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Osamu murmurs into your shoulder, “Why the fuck should we care about them?”

“They lost,” Atsu nods in agreement at his twin, grinning as he probably remembers yesterday’s match. Or the faces of his crushed enemies. One of those two, no other option. He resumes when he hears your teacher exhale tiredly, “They can come back when they win. When was the last time they won nationals?” 

Is he demeaning Shiratorizawa? Definitely. Should you care? No. He is always like this, little trash. You spot a fond smile at several faces, even as members of the club shake their heads. He is your little trash, after all. 

Waka did so much for you yesterday and you are grateful, okay? So it’s a strange feeling, being happy that he lost. You like him, no matter how much he ignored everything you said yesterday. He took care of you! But. You are an awful person. You would take his defeat over the twins being sad every time. You would take everybody’s loss over theirs. 

“Volleyball team is only the coverup anyway,” you bob your head, “They are building the army, Kurosu-sensei. Don’t trust Washijo.”

Osamu taps your nose at that, while Atsumu laughs, reaching over through his twin to ruffle your hair. You are also not sure, but Rin’s phone is now on the floor, as he seems to be wheezing and trying to hold in laughter. 

“Yes, I’m going to ignore all of you,” Kurosu shots incredulous gaze in your direction and sighs loudly as he continues, “There are not a lot of things you care about. There is probably only one.” 

That’s a lie. You wrinkle your nose. It’s impossible for a person to like only one thing. You peer at your friends’ faces. There is something really scary, really foreboding about how wan and pale they suddenly appear to be. 

Oh. 

He is not talking about volleyball, isn’t he? No. No. No! He wouldn’t. That's impossible. You are the volleyball team. How are you supposed to, well, volleyball if he prohibits volleyball? That doesn't make any sense-

“Today’s practice match with Date Tech is canceled. The same goes for tomorrow.”

Fuck. 

Your mouth shapes into a thin line. 

Maybe he shouldn’t say it to the room full of teenagers. They are going to end up angry. Way too angry. To be honest, you feel infuriated at that, just a little. Well, if they want to kill him, you are not going to help. He will have to defenestrate himself to escape, like, seriously. 

Your fingers curl up and you reach with your hands to both of the twins. Osa takes it without hesitation. His hand is a bit shaky, but you don’t think he is furious, just irritated. Tsu, though, he ignores you, staring at your coaches with intensity burning more prominently than hellfire. 

“You can’t do this,” the blond stands up from the bed, his tone grave, “Kurosu-sensei, you are not serious. We are here to train for Interhigh. Are you trying to sabotage your team?”

“How did those schools react?” Gintama snaps harshly, “They have to be so angry at us now, coach! Do you want all of Miyagi to hate us too?” 

“Hey, our practice matches, give them back,” Suna moans, rising head slightly from his phone’s screen, even if his voice is still emotionless. 

More rightful complaints seem to be coming, so you reach for the chips. As you munch on them, you realize that none of them end up vocalized as Kita narrows his eyes, silencing all of the room without even raising his voice.

He is so cool, isn’t he? Commanding the whole room with his presence alone. Your captain, you gush mentally, is the best.

“Coach," he says, instantly making everyone in the room look at him. He doesn't stress over the pressure of your gazes, addressing your teachers calmly, "While what we did was not right, this certainly seems like an overreaction. Our team has to train for Interhigh.” 

_Thus saith the Lord._

With this decree, all of your team ends glaring venomously at your poor coach. You were permitted to attack, and so you, after all the Prime Minister let you. Oomi’s smile twitches a little, for the moment looking nearly sad. Your second coach rubs his hands awkwardly, doing everything to avert the eyes creating a hole in him.

“Be grateful we are still going to Tokyo," he responds slowly, choosing his words carefully, "The staff wanted you to return completely, but the headmaster threatened to fire us if we did, so only those two matches canceled. You will be given homework to do in your rooms. In short words, you are grounded.”

He is surprisingly calm for somebody nearly fired. 

Grounded? What you are, five? You feel a grimace forming on your face, because really, how you are supposed to stay calm and dandy when your favorite people's favorite thing is being taken away from them? You don’t like it. You don’t like it all. Murder, you know, is always a good answer.

“So we’re going to sit there without any volleyball while you drink?!” Atsumu blows up, pointing accusatively at the two of them, “At least let us go to the gym to practice!” 

Osamu sighs but doesn’t try to bicker with his twin. Nobody does. 

“No, demon number two, we canceled the reservation already. And I’m not going to drink!” Kurosu narrows his eyes, “I’m spending my time in Dog cafe, your demons. Those puppies are not going to be as cute as Momo-chan, but they will be still cuter than any of you.” 

“On the other hand, I’m going to get drunk!” Oomi waves at you as he opens the doors, “Have fun, kids!” 

* * *

Your room becomes the kingdom of boredom. Literally. The three of you built a castle from pillows. It’s not pillow fort, oh no. It’s fucking castle with lava, lego blocks given to you by even more confused staff, around protecting its’ premises. 

You have already done the tasks for today and tomorrow for all of you. Was that supposed to be difficult? Pff, it was super easy. 

You have already built the castle. What were you supposed to do now? Paint each other's nails? No way that Atsumu would let you. You are already hearing his shrieks of how it will destroy the balance of his setting. Maybe then watch the tv? Nothing interesting there. 

You are so, so bored. You yawn tiredly. Napping would be nice, but you doubt you will able to do so when Atsumu is taking his anger on you. His fingers are tapping your skin as he fumes silently beside you.

“Stop that,” you slap his hand away. 

In the answer, he pouts at you. Holy shit, he pouts at you! This is - this rare, very rare! Like a shining pokemon, a country that wasn’t conquered by Great Britain. You gasp, raising your hand and pointing at Suna, “RinRin, take a photo!” 

Atsumu’s petulant expression disappears entirely which is a shame. Your lips curl up in disappointment. TsuTsu’s pouting is something you are not able to witness a lot these times. He prefers his fake smiles not or dirty faces. It’s genuinely a shame. 

Suna groans as he looks up from his position on the floor. You don’t know why he stays on the ground. Surely, the carpet can’t be fluffier than your bed, no matter how lavish your hotel is. Right? _Right_? 

“He was faster, sorry, cutie.” 

Osamu blinks slowly at his brother.

“You are so lame, Tsumu,” he takes the empty carton of the pocky and throws it at his twin’s face, “There are no more chips. Should we order a pizza? No, they probably can't even bake pizza properly. ” 

“So lame,” you agree as the blond takes the bag that was leftover of said chips and tosses it at the silver head. It says a lot that Osa doesn’t try to stand up and kill his twin in retaliation. You sigh, “I’m not hungry.”

Rin fake-gasps, “The world is ending, finally. I waited for so long. Noah, get the boat.” 

“I thought you wanted to die,” Osamu points up lazily, "Why should Noah get the boat?

“It’s not for me, it’s for all of you.” 

You let out a soft noise, not expecting such tender declarations out of your _friend_. Osamu blinks at that very slowly, as if he doesn’t believe what was just said and you don’t fault him for that. You can blame his twin for how he reacts, though. Atsumu takes another empty package, lifts himself with an arm, and hurls it at Rin. It hits the crown of his head, but Suna doesn’t lift his head. 

“You love us,” Atsu’s grin has a conceited edge to it, “You love us, RinRin.”

“Gross.” 

Your giggle is interrupted as the ringing comes off the phone. You frown as you recognize the music, the one you have chosen a long time ago. The culprit belongs to you, there is no question about it. Who the fuck could call you? All people that could are with you. Maybe - no, that’s dumb. It’s impossible. Your parents wouldn’t - 

_They just wouldn’t._

You feel the concerned gaze of Osamu as you sit up and reach over to your phone that lied abandoned near the wall of your pillow castle at your feet. Atsu had followed you because he slings his arm around your shoulder. You don’t mind, though, you are so much safer with him near you after all. 

_Be brave, [Name]._

Bringing all of your courage you pick the phone. Unknown number. Not your parents, thank Cthulhu. You bite down your lip and swallow (the bitter disappointment ) a relief flooding down your throat. Okay then, you have no idea, who could call you. Not at all - wait, maybe, it’s - Your heart leaps in your chest with new hope. 

You don’t wait for a second longer, you answer, “Hello?” 

The voice that greets you is a familiar one. One much more pleasant than your parents’. You didn’t want to hear them anyway. 

“D-Date-san?” Blueberry Cupcake sounds as nervous as ever. You smile at that which causes somebody to left a sigh of relief. You turn around to see Osamu, concern still etched on his face.

“Who is that, [Name]?” Atsu questions, coming so close to you that he can stick his ear to the other side of your phone, "Tell them to go away, you are not dating anybody."

“Fuck off, Atsu, the adults are talking,” you snap at him before you focus back on your phone, your eyes sparkling with joy, “Yup, yup, it’s me, what’s wrong, Blueberry? Do you need me to kick somebody? Do you want me to cover the crime for you? Do you - oh, do you need any help at all? I will help! Let me help!” 

He _called_ you. He did it by himself. Now, you could take care of him, offer any help he needed, be his friend. Now, you could take those assholes who knew nothing about nobility to where they rightfully belong. Where they belong, huh? 

Your smile promises pain to your enemies. Maybe you should leave them at the Great Canyon without any supplies. Or dump them in the Amazonian jungle. What about abandoning them close to Dyatlov Pass? So many options, every one of them tempting. If you feel particularly mean, you can even give them to Washijo in the present. The old evil overlord’s torturers have to be good.

“N-no, I called because I-I wanted to s-see you,” he stutters into your ear. Really, how could they call him a king? He is a precious person. Fucking bullies, “That's not like that, Hinata, shut up! I meant that I have s-something to give you!” 

What. What did he say? Give you? Give you what? Maybe more strawberry milk? No, wait, materialistic side, shut up. Let’s look at the facts: He called you. 

He was easily flustered, which probably means that’s just an excuse, a play - pretend because he is afraid you will not answer to his pleas. He probably doesn’t want to get hurt that way. The fierce protectiveness you sensed towards the boy is as strong as yesterday. He needs you. 

It’s easy to discern. You don’t know why. You don’t care. You just have to get to him. Banned, pfff? Since when the rules meant anything to you? Who is going to stop you anyway? Coaches are out gods-know-where. Your friends are most likely to join. Most of your teammates will not care. Shinsuke and Momjiro can be avoided if you are careful enough. 

Sneaking with twins, huh? You smile. That’s makes you a tad nostalgic, the three of you used to skip school a lot after. It was fun and easy: Going out of the school on the breaks, climbing over the gate, and escaping to the nearest ice cream parlor. Well, time for a trip down memory lane. 

“Oh, okay, you’re still at school?” 

“Huh? Yes- “

You nod to yourself, determined. Your heartbeat becomes faster and faster, adrenaline flowing through your veins. There is a little bubble of happiness in your chest, boiling, trying to get free. You feel warm, happy, ready to fight, “Then I’m going to come over.” 

“W-wait, that’s not- “ 

“See you soon, Cupcake!” 

He called you. _He called you_. He had to have his reason, for sure. It didn’t sound urgent, but you should hurry anyway. You end the call and drop your phone on the bed, planning, and plotting. The hour is not super late, but, you are pretty sure some students are going to be there anyway. What should you wear? Something ingenious. You have to more than a ninja.

You have to be a spy. British spy. Operation _Fortitude_? Your lips quiver in excitement. Operation Fortitude! Or maybe you could be an agent of the KGB. Soviets spies were wild. At that one time, they had to investigate their organization because they weren’t sure they weren’t part of the assassination. 

A soft melody escapes your mouth. You can’t help it. You can help somebody, no matter how helpless you are, and you get to play a spy. Flinging off Tsu’s arm, you stretch your hands, before you turn around and cross your hands behind your back. 

“Comrades,” you start seriously, imitating, in theory, a Russian accent. In practice, you are pretty damn sure Russians don’t sound like that at all, ”Alone, we stood against the power of Kurosu’s imperialism, again and again, protecting our glorious Motherland from the hands of our enemies- “ 

What is Motherland in this? You don’t know. What do you know? Well, you know are not able to get any further, as the blond traitor taps your nose. You sniff, your hands coming to your nose in the defense. He booped the snoot again! Your snakish blood is screaming for a blood vendetta, so you jab your finger at his check. Atsumu grins. Suna is very unimpressed. Osamu sighs. 

“The point, sunshine,” he pleads with your common sense. You don’t have one, Inarizaki did steal it from you, so you tilt your head slightly in confusion as he continues, “We don’t have a whole day. Wait, we have because we’re banned.” 

Nobody lets you be dramatic anymore, but yeah, whatever. You bow politely before them, “Sneak off with me, pretty please.” 

Atsumu runs his hand through his hair. If he is trying to fix it, then he is doing it wrong, because he only destroys it further. His bangs are on the wrong side now. What was he hoping to achieve? Look cool? He doesn’t, he is a loser! 

“Do you even have to ask, sunshine?” 

He just made you very happy, though. You shake your head fondly, ignoring the sting of pain in your neck and closing the distance to him, and rearranging his hair in proper order. What he would do without you, that clumsy idiot? 

“Go brush your hair, TsuTsu. You look awful now.” 

He doesn’t, not really. You smile teasingly as you tap his nose again before you move away, crawling your way out of the bed. You probably will be able to get to Kageyama’s school without a problem, right? It was Crow - Something. Karasuno? Karasuko? Karusuki? Google will help you. How many schools with crows can there be in Miyagi? 

Okay, you are jinxing yourself again. 

“She means you are fucking ugly, Tsumu.” 

“Hey, what the heck, Samu?!” 

“And you are still afraid to curse- “ 

At least twins never change, your pretty idiots. You send them a fond look as you move to the exit of your castle. The said exit is not much, but your honest work brought a long blanket just in the red color and you know, red doors are the best. Why? Because nobody can see blood on them! That sounds logical, right? The problem is Rin chose just that spot to lie beside. Maybe he is playing a guard to your door. He would be an awful one, you don’t doubt it. So lazy and impassive, he would let everyone in. He doesn’t even try to hide your boredom as he gazes when you waddle next to him.

“You are going out in your pajamas, [Name]?” he inquiries lazily, drawing the words in his mouth, the shameless person he is. Too bold and infuriating, Mr. Pretty Girl. You fight the urge to step on him. You are happy, let’s not destroy it by spending too much time thinking about his sass and derisive words. 

“Of course not, Socrates,” you clap your hands, bringing the attention of all of the idiots to yourself, “Who wants to change clothes and then sneak off like sneaky, sneaky ninja and play a spy?”

“How dare you, I told you already I prefer Schopenhauer.” 

You elect to ignore him as you hum, your good humor still intact as you look for your luggage. At this point, you feel like a serial killer could just break the door off the hinges (because they are closed, duh, you are not that dumb) and you would still be super happy. 

There’s only one problem standing before you right now. 

“What to wear, what to wear ~ “

* * *

You hate that you are not supposed to wear high heels, because what normal students wear high heels to school? Stupid school with stupid uniforms and stupid restrictions. You should play it safe and put on your sports clothes, but you couldn’t help it as you are so getting bored with those clothes, damn it. 

So, your very pretty boots. While you didn’t wear high heels, you put on black, sleek creepers. You are going to creep over after all and those adorable shoes had little bows, cute little bows. Your shoes were so pretty, the prettiest.

And yeah, the rest of your very sneaky, the sneaky costume is nothing special, you guess. Just an oversized turtleneck to camouflage your neck with a fox on the side and laces through the sleeves and leggings. Here, you looked like a totally normal teenage girl who is not sneaking into another school to see a boy.

That’s sounds so wrong out of context. Your lips twitch, but you try not to let your mood dampen. 

“We’re sneaking into another school,” Osamu sighs tiredly, fidgeting with this hand, “That’s the stupidest idea I ever heard and I lived with Tsumu for sixteen years.” 

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean, Samu?” 

“You are so fucking stupid you don’t even understand?” 

You are totally not suspicious. 

“ _Undetected,_ ” you sing gently to yourself, squeezing their hands, “ _Stealth perfected_ ~ “

In the answer, Osa caresses your hand with his thumb. Finding _Karasuno_ wasn’t so hard with the help of Google and a few questions to the passerby. Walking out of your rooms? Nobody even saw you, you are ninjas and spies at the same. Wait, ninjas are already spies. Or not? You should know that. Why don’t you know that? Ugh, you have to fix your Japanese knowledge again. 

“So handsome,” you hear somebody whispering near you, “Do you think they go to our school?” 

You blink. Rin who had to be as much as bored as you, because he accompanied you without any of you begging, rolls his eyes and motions with his head to a crowd of girls observing your every move. Are they suspicious? Don’t be, don’t be, you are just innocent students! 

“They have a girlfriend, don’t you see?” 

“I thought that was their younger sister.” 

Oh my god, you can’t escape gossip even at another school. 

Not to say that being called twins’ youngest sister makes you a little bit bitter as you are only younger than a year than them. It is even worse than being their girlfriend somehow. Seriously though, both terms seem wrong and they are not enough. You are their best friend, nothing more, nothing less and you love that. 

Anyway, if they want to date them, they have to get your approval first. You gaze at them, trying to find somebody Osa or Tsu could find attractive. You are not sure about the younger twin’s preferences, but Tsu’s girlfriend was very beautiful. 

As you think, you notice Atsumu turning to look at them. You would have thought he is checking them up, but you can’t see and it causes them to pale and run, so you deduce it was either his bone-chilling glare or his fakest smile. 

“Where is your friend waiting?” he inquiries softly. You don’t see anything on his face that could tell you what is the feeling, so you shrug as much as you can shrug when you are hurt and holding hands with other people. 

“Don’t know,” you hum happily, not minding in the slightest, “Let’s go where we were last time, okie?” 

You swing your linked hands as you go ahead. The gym is not so far, but the eyes of Karasuno’s students don’t leave you for one second. Nobody dares to come close, though, not when Rin looks so disgusted, Osamu seems to be bloodthirsty and Atsu is glaring or fake smiling at everybody.

So, yeah, you think you may appear a little bit suspicious. Your singing doesn’t help. Maybe they simply don’t like your song? You can’t change it, though, it fits you to a tee, “ _Undetected, unexpected, wings of glory, tell their story_ ~ “ 

You are not so good of a spy, you suppose as glares around you intensify. Well, back to being the future Evil Overlord, then! Though it is curious how much attention you get. Like, don’t those people have to go back to their lives? Who has time to stare at random strangers? 

Nevertheless, you refuse to let them destroy your mood. You are here to drink milk and take names, and you are all out of milk. 

You arrive at the gym after a moment of the uncomfortable walk. You stop singing, ignore the twins, and take out your phone. You call your Blueberry Cupcake, but to your disappointment, he doesn’t answer. He didn’t just tell you to come to make a fool out of you, right? You lift your head hesitantly. 

“Suna-senpai!” a familiar voice screams, “Oh, hey, Kageyama, Date-san is here as well!” 

RinRin, very much tired, looks around, but he is unable to identify the source of the scream. You drop Atsu’s hand for the moment to tug at his sleeve and point to the window of the gym, where you can clearly see the face of Carrot Cake. He is thrilled as he stares with stars at Rin. Your deepest condolences. 

“Fuck.”

Osamu takes one look at him.

“Tangerine,” he decides before he finds himself deep into a wonder, “Or an orange? Chocolate, hm, I could go for chocolate with oranges… Or oranges with chocolate?” 

He really should stop talking, you feel hungry already. 

The doors of the gym slam open. Guided by instinct alone, you take a step backward, while Atsu moves ahead of you, releasing hold of your hand. The face you are greeted by is not exactly a familiar one, though you have the strangest feeling of deja vu because you saw him somewhere before. Like, this man is definitely not a student, so maybe he is a coach? 

He has bleached hair, but whoever did it, fucked up massively. Not to be that person, but you did better with Atsu and Osa’s. Does he know about henna? He should use henna. You lean a little to the side, wanting to have better look at his disaster of the hair. 

“What are you brats doing here?” he arches his eyebrows at you, his tone not the one you would clarify as the kind, “You are not students of this school.”

How does he know that? 

“We have a business,” Atsu answers sweetly, “I believe it is with one of your players, right, sunshine?” 

“Kageyama,” you utter into Atsumu’s shirt, still trying to understand from where you recognize the bleached one. 

There seem to be several people behind him, not only teenagers to your surprise. They all look at you flabbergasted, but before they can say something any further, you are attacked with a loud smile of Carrot Cake. You still don’t know how he makes his smile loud, but it so, so loud. 

“Suna-senpai!” he bounces to Rin without any shame as he ignores the rest of you, “You came to teach me, after all!” 

You and the twins’ sweatdrops at that. 

“No.” 

The face of the younger boy becomes absolutely crushed, so you decide to ignore him and stare back at the bleached head -

“Oh,” you finally understand. You tug Osa’s hand and when you feel him squeezing your hand, you explain, “The old man.”

“The old man?” he tilts his head and then he remembers the cashier at the convenience shop where you bought band-aids. He nods slowly, finally remembering, “The old man.”

“The old man,” Atsumu repeats, grinning like an evil fox. His telepathic link with Osa had to tell the blond who he is because you doubt he would be able to remember him on his own. 

“The old man,” you are pretty sure Rin doesn’t know what is going on, but he doesn’t care, just going along. Your friends are the best. Chemical Dye doesn’t look to appreciate any of your sass, as he throws his hands into the air.

“Don’t call me old, you brats!” he yells at you, “What are you doing here?!” 

“Reviving the Soviet Union, sir,” you answer calmly. He glares at you with hostility. Hey, that was only a joke! Osamu pulls your hand, dragging you away from - well, it’s not an argument, not truly. 

Polite conversation? No. From something, you guess. You frown at him. Hey, he was supposed to trust you! You can deal with the Bleached Head and his bad dye mood. Just look at him, so angery. He wants to fight and you can take him even without high heels. He shouts, “Get lost! I have to do something with the lack of volleyball players, not play your stupid games.” 

The world stop for the second. You can’t answer, not truly, sensing something from your childhood friend. Atsumu always was charismatic. His presence always screamed out for the people. He does what he wants without looking at anybody. And now- 

Now he looks _hungry_. 

“How about us then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :DDDDD
> 
> Please don’t hurt me for no Ina vs Date Tech and Wakunan. It just… didn’t really bring anything important, to be honest. Have Suna and Miya twins vs Karasuno instead. It's going to be fun. Also, we met the Ukai! Hello, Ukai. You joined our Crow Boys. What a pity somebody just hijacked your first practice.
> 
> MC sings Night Witches by Sabaton.
> 
> History time, because I'm a nerd. Operation Fortitude was the strategy of the Allies just deployed before D - Day during IIWW. It was a massive counterintelligence operation that deceived the Third Reich. They got fake, inflatable tanks and fake, parachuting soldiers to confuse the enemy. 
> 
> Other interesting bits of D - Day: During the Allies’ attack, Rommel was visiting his wife because she had a birthday. When he heard about the invading force, he had to hastily go back. Our sad failed artist, Mr. H., used to go to sleep very late and sleep until noon. Nobody dared to wake him up even when they heard of invasion. He woke up at about 2 p.m. I believe. The nice first thing to hear about in the morning, yeah?
> 
> Hope you have enjoyed this monster. Plus 8k again! Wanted to write even more, but it felt like a good point to end it. Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day :3


	31. In which devil and angel play the game (the thing is, Sam-chan is both at the same time).

“How about us then?”

You are surprised he did ask instead of just ignoring all of them. You can see Atsumu straight-up going to the gym, smiling cockily, and declaring he has seized their property. Now, it’s _your_ school. Karl Marx would be so proud. 

You hear gasps and wheezes around you. You only roll your eyes, as Osamu tugs you back even further and steps forward, trying to protect you from - from what? Does he think they have lasers in their eyes? You puff your cheeks, irritated. You squeeze his hand to show your displeasure. He presses your hand right back, telling you to stay back for now. Overprotective, wonderful bastard. You lean a bit from behind him, wanting to watch what will happen. You know. He knows. If somebody tries to hurt Atsu, you won’t hesitate. 

You hope you will not have to fight Blueberry, though. Where is he anyway? He didn’t put some joke on you, right? If he did then - Thinking about it hurts. Well, you don’t know what you would do. You hope he didn’t. You can’t help him if he doesn’t take you seriously. 

You feel Rin coming closer as well, standing just behind you. You glance towards him - and well, he doesn’t look ready for the fight. He seems to be so done with the world. As he sees you, he shrugs. Why? Why did he shrug? Like, are you supposed to read his mind? That - that’s the level of friendship you didn’t achieve yet. _Yet_. That’s a nice perspective for the future, no matter how confusing RinRin, Mr. Pretty Girl, can be. 

“Are you any good at volleyball?” 

You bring your attention back to the Old Bleached One. He looks pretty solemn, probably taking Atsu much more seriously than you. That’s your friend’s charm, you guess. Seriously, he has to be just under Shinsuke in that department. You are probably biased, but you think it’s impossible to just ignore Atsumu Miya. You either love or hate him, nothing in between. 

People always lean in to hate him, though. Not that he cared much. 

“We’re pretty talented,” Atsu’s voice is smooth. He knows how to be suave when he wants to be. If only his words were as sweet as his voice. Just look at that arrogant little shit. He challenges everyone with his gaze. 

Nobody dares to step up. Nobody, but his own blood and bones. 

“I will pay someone to take you away at this point,” Osamu shakes his head in disapproval, “You have no shame.”

“Disgusting,” Rin deadpans coming so close he lightly bumps into your shoulder. You try to fight back blush from appearing on your face, as he continues, ignoring your discomfort at his proximity, “You want to play on our free day. Absolutely revolting. Hey, Miss Murder, we need you.” 

_Miss Murder_? You like it. You like this nickname very much. Is he trying to redeem himself from the Pretty Girl Incident? You let out a little titter from your lips, bringing your free hand to cover it. 

“Not with so many witnesses, Rin-chan,” you sing-song, his name becoming a drawl, “We can plan his demise at our hideout.” 

“Behind Aran, you mean, sunny?” Atsu winks at you, not caring a bit. He did become too accustomed to your threats, damn it, “Stop enabling her, _Rin-kun_. And you, Samu!” he points his fingers at his twin, “You are talking as if it’s not true. We’re good. Better than good.” 

He winks at all three of you. You swear Rin shivers at that. You only giggle again, still covering your mouth with your hand, while SamSam glares at his twin. 

“Free day? Wasn’t Inarizaki supposed to play Date Tech today?” 

You don’t know the person who said that. He has _grey_ hair. Not Osa’s grey, dark silver hair you so painfully try to maintain every time you dye it. It’s just grey as if he was just old. He doesn’t seem to be older than twins, though. 

Oh my god, he is Kakashi look-alike 2. No, stay still, heart. You can’t go through it again. You refuse. No crushes. No falling in love only because somebody looks like your favorite character. He doesn’t have a mask anyway. His eyes are wrong. His hair is too long. He is not a ninja. 

You are so, so fucked.

His question is uncomfortable anyway. Like, how do you even start to explain it? Hey, guys, we kind of scorched the restaurant a little, you know, it happens sometimes, what can you do? 

“We did nothing wrong,” you finally decide on saying, not looking at Kakashi 2. Wait, no, don’t call him like that in your mind. It’s how it starts, damn it. 

“Ever in our lives,” Osamu squeezes your hand in approval, sending the greyhead a challenging look. The Not - Kakashi looks super dumbfounded at that. Dadchi - Daichi, damn it, the one who helped you when before, places his hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Suga,” he says cautiously, shaking his head. Suga’s, you guess, lips become a thin line. He looks seriously displeased about something. Does he have a problem with you? You are up to beat up his pretty face if he wants to throw hands. 

Like, you know the last time you were here Atsu and Osa didn’t leave the best impression. You probably didn’t as well, but you were wounded, injured, dying, so they probably saw you as a pathetic little girl. Just like Moon Tower did. And about that Fucker - yeah, you see him well, just behind the Bleach, near - near _Blueberry Cupcake_. Okay, time to ignore tall, stupid people.

You smile the moment you see him, waving a little. He reacts curiously. He stiffens and instantly blushes at you, averting your eyes. Did he think - Did he think you wouldn’t show up? Now, you feel guilty about doubting him. You want to move to him, but as you think about it, the Bad Bleach interrupts you, his hand coming to his hair in frustration. 

“We don’t have time for this,” he mumbles more to himself for several seconds. You are not able to hear everything he says, but he finally gazes into your childhood friend, “What are your positions?” 

“I’m setter,” Atsu’s hand rests on his waist, “Samu can play setter as well but prefers to be wing spiker. Rin-kun over there is middle blocker.”

“Hey, who said I’m going to play - “ 

“So we are only lacking libero,” Bleach interrupts Rin, nodding to himself, “Our middle blocker and libero got caught in his job, something about fire. Not that I can do much about when I called them so late.”

He exhales deeply, sounding tired. You refuse to meet his gaze, feeling awkward. Fire. The scorched restaurant from yesterday. Haha. It’s impossible. No way it’s the same place you were at yesterday. It would be way too convenient. Atsu looks to be absolutely thrilled, not connecting the dots. You can practically hear his thoughts: _Volleyball, volleyball, volleyball_. What a dork. His eyes are shining as he shifts to wink again at you, so damn proud. 

“We’re going to play against the Emperor?!” 

_Oh no._ You forgot Carrot Cake can’t keep his damn mouth shut for five seconds. Atsumu blinks slowly, turning to him. The alarms in your head go off. Mayday, mayday, you have a problem! He can’t hear it - 

“The Emperor?”

He just did hear it. You nearly lose all the air in your lungs. Okay, okay, okay. So this is how those poor people on Titanic felt? Not so cool, not so cool at all. So. Time to bullshit your way out of the problem, right? It’s the only way. He cannot know he was called the Emperor. You will never hear him stop bragging about that. 

“Don’t think about it too much, Atsu,” you explain, trying to hide the panic in your voice, as you _glare_ at Carrot Cake to keep quiet. He does, so nobody is getting buried today. Okay, time to lie more! “It’s a historical reference.” 

Fucking idiot, you curse yourself, biting your tongue in frustration. He gazes at you in surprise that changes into suspicious and something hungry, angry, nearly possessive. You have no idea how even think to interpret that. 

Time for Plan B. 

_You don’t have a Plan B._

Okay, time for Plan Rely-On-Others, then. You squeeze Osamu’s hand as you let go of it, taking a step backward and as subtly as you can, bumping Rin’s shoulder. Did he want to play with nonverbal language? Here, right here, let’s play, Mr. Pretty Girl. Understand it without words, damn it. 

“You really should pay more attention in history class, TsuTsu,” you theatrically sigh, taking a step closer to him, “Do I need to tutor you more?”

“Don’t bother, [Name]. He is just too stupid to understand some things,” Osamu agrees easily enough, rolling his eyes and reacting way too fast than you would, “Seriously, Tsumu, you should bring your history grade up. It’s so fucking embarrassing to be related to you.”

Rin meanwhile tries to silence Carrot Cake. How? You don’t know. You just hope he does, because otherwise, Suncake becomes way too pale to be considered healthy as he pointily tries to look away from you. 

“Hey, why the hell am I friends with you?” Atsu questions rhetorically, rubbing the back of his head. You roll your eyes, pinching his arm. 

“Nobody else wants you.”

He laughs at that reaching over to your hair and ruffling it way too aggressively. You try to slap his hand away, but he is ready for you and swats your attempts away. Asshole.

“What are waiting for?” you are interrupted rudely, as the Bleached One motions at you with his hand to the gym, “We don’t have the whole day. Get in.” 

You hate that you feel grateful for that, but he just saved your hair. You can scratch him off from your _future murder victims_ list for now. Thinking about it, is he working two shifts? Like, he was just at that convenience shop and now he is doing something like coaching. Honestly, that’s impressive. Kurosu and Oomi would never. On the other hand, you doubt Blueberry Cupcake can be as a handful as Atsumu. 

Carrot Cake, though. So loud, too loud. You feel yourself wince. Yeah, they have your sympathy.

“Yessir,” Osamu and Atsumu answer at the same time. Atsu turns around and waits for his twin to join you ahead before he cocks his head curiously.

You follow his gaze. Mr. Pretty Girl just stands still, looking very tiredly at the sky. Atsu clears his throat, “Rin - kun, are you not following us?” 

“I don’t wanna,” the brunet moans in the answer, “Mom, why do I have to play with the neighbor’s kid? He is weird.”

You giggle gleefully. 

“You are talking as if you are not excited about it, Rin,” SamSam yawns, already tired of the bullshit, “Let’s go play. At least it will be less boring than watching the TV."

“I don’t wanna,” he repeats childishly but comes closer to you anyway, “I regret all of my life choices that led to this point.” 

“Get into line, bitch,” you smile at him. He returns the gesture to your surprise. Yeah, it’s a little bit crooked, but that’s a _smile_. It makes you all tingly inside. It’s still new, that feeling of having friends. You can’t say you dislike it.

You hate the way you are watched though. Karasuki - Karasuno - _KarasuSomething's_ team just observes you with eyes of pure steel. The last time you visited them wasn’t pleasant, but it’s not your or twins’ fault. You are trash people, it’s in your nature to behave like trashes. What are you supposed to do? 

Suga or Definitely - Not - Kakashi2 has a worried expression. You feel the only thing keeping him from talking shit is the hand on his shoulder. The same you can say about Moon Tower who probably stays silent because Blueberry throws daggers into his back. He is lucky he is silent, because if he dared to say anything you feel you would kick his stupid face. Bye-bye, glasses.

Carrot Cake nearly sparkles as he looks at you - no, he doesn’t look at you. He focuses on Suna and twins, glazing over you as if you are the air. You bite down your lip, your temper flaring up at that. That’s super rude, yo. Is he sexist like Gintama? Or is he developing a crush on your childhood friends? One way or another, he should keep it in his pants. Bleached Head nods at you. 

"We need members for the opposing team. Karasuno should play like always anyway," he explains, as he focuses on Atsumu. Wait. The school is named Karasuno? You were close, well, "You said you were a setter?” the blond affirmatively bobs his head, “Perfect. Hey, Yusuke, Makoto, Yukinari, take twins and the zombie to your team.” 

“Got it, Kenshin!” comes the answer from the gym, “Hey, come here!” 

Why is that person talking to you like an abusive owner talks to his dog? Nobody deserves such treatment. Not cute puppy. Not not-so-cute teenagers. You think you will not like them. What is with Miyagi and rude people anyway? The only kind ones you have encountered so far are Waka and Blueberry. Your big Teddy Bear is just too good a person to be rude. He is so nice it is infuriating. And Blueberry? Kageyama is awkward but earnest and shy, and he was bullied for it. You hate it. 

You hope Tokyo is better because if all of Japan is so fucking unpleasant, you are going to seriously run away. Just pack twins, Rin, Shinsuke, the rest of the team, Waka, and Blueberry, and go to Argentina, become farmers or something. Worked for the nazis, will work for you.

"I'm still alive, unfortunately,” Rin murmurs, but he is promptly ignored by Bad Hair Dye, who decides he has more important things to take care of.

So why, exactly, is he staring at you? 

You squirm uncomfortably under his attention. Okay. He is definitely planning something evil. Gods, demons, angels, devils. What did you do to deserve being scrutinized by some old, petty man who cannot dye his hair properly? You reach over to Osamu and take hold of his arm, taking it into an embrace. Your childhood friend, sweetheart that he is, instantly stops and looks at your attacker, his lips becoming a thin line. 

"Does the girl come with you?" Bleach Coach asks. He looks nearly anxious under the murderous glare of the silver head twin, just as he should. 

Look at that sexist prick. The girl has a name and can answer the questions herself! Probably. Maybe not. You lean into Osa’s more, nearly hiding your head into his arm. Like always, his proximity makes it easier to breathe, think, to act. 

"We're a package deal," he simply says. His voice doesn’t leave a place to argue, so you raise your head. You want to stick your tongue out at him, but it would be childish. You are not childish! Okay, okay, okay you _are_ childish, but you don’t want to provoke him into _not_ letting your friends on the court. They want to play and you are not about to destroy their wishes, because you feel petty.

"She can help Karasuno's manager then,” Bleach declares confidently. You raise your head from the sheer indignation you feel in your bones.

"No, fuck off,” Sam instantly rejects the idea, not letting him even had a chance to protect it. That’s your boy, “Find yourself a fucking ballboy." 

“Fuck no,” you agree venomously, just a word behind him, "Shinsuke said I shouldn’t. What Shinsuke says happens. If you have a problem with it I can call him. Tell him you are ignoring his orders to his face, asshole.” 

That’s an empty threat. You can’t call him. You sneaked off after all, but the Bleach Head can’t know it. He can’t know even who Shinsuke is if you think about it. How worthless his life must be then, Shinsuke brings light and stability to your life, all Hail Prime Minister of Ina High. 

"She has been injured thanks to one of your players, anyway," Atsumu interjects before Bleach Head can answer, his fake - smile firmly entangled on his face, “Isn't it right, Tobio-kun?"

"How do you know my name?" Blueberry Cupcake stops glaring at Moon Tower, raising his brow confusedly at your friend. 

That’s a stupid question, but you don’t exhale tiredly at that. If that was someone else, then maybe you would that. Not at him, though, he deserved so much better. Poor, poor Cupcake, he just doesn’t know twins for a long time like you do. TsuTsu possesses a lot of information that he shouldn’t be able to obtain, just like Osa. After some time you learn to not question it, just go along with it, it saves you both headaches and effort. 

"You introduced yourself to us, don’t you remember?” Atsu’s smile doesn’t disappear, as he looks at your Cupcake, “ _After_ you wounded my dearest friend.” 

Cupcake averts his gaze and you feel something in you breaking in two. Maybe it’s your heart. Maybe it’s just a pocky stick in your pocket. It doesn’t matter, you want to hug him, but you can’t, not really, so you reach to slap Atsu gently across his shoulder. He dares to laugh at you, still not taking his eyes off from your Cupcake and you pout, repeating the gesture. Still nothing. You swear he is trying to kill Blueberry with his eyes alone, but he is a fool, you can’t kill people like that. You know it because you tried way too many times. 

What is his problem with Kageyama anyway? Is he still angry? Osa is not like that at all. They are both setters, right? Maybe he can feel the setter’s aura coming from him and feel the need to assert his dominance. Yeah, that sounds like something Atsu would do, he is such a bitch after all. 

"I don't know what you are talking about, kid,” Bleach Head sighs, ignoring everything you do. Hey, you saw this one before! That’s straight out of Kurosu’s school of dealing with Inarizaki’s team, “Just get in, we don't have much time left."

You can’t help yourself, you _must_ , "You mean you are not getting any younger, right?" 

He glares at you and you cover behind Osamu, trying to shield yourself from his malicious gaze. That does not mean you are escaping, of course, it’s a tactical retreat. SamSam hums, as he decides to add to your attack. 

"Old man,” he says easily enough. You imagine an arrow piercing through Bleach’s armor. It’s the first strike, going straight into his chest. 

"Old man,” the second arrow is delivered by Atsumu, his voice so vain, so proud, so conceited. Sometimes, he is awful. Right now, he is not and you can proudly say you love him. 

"Old man,” there goes the third missile. You are pretty sure it would go through his helm, perfectly striking into his eyes. 

"I’m not so old, you brats!” 

You snicker. Bunch of evil foxes, that’s what you are. Bleach Head growls and turns around, going into the gym, not waiting for you. Atsumu winks at you three again, before he moves. He walks in like he owns the place, ignoring everybody in his way. You are dragged alongside, walking step by step with Osamu. Rin follows, more out of obligation than any desire, you suppose. He groans at Moon Tower as you pass him something suspiciously sounding like _bitch_. 

Karasuno’s gym is a lot smaller than Inarizaki. You saw it before, that's true, and you probably should have expected that. Ina is a stupid rich school for rich kids and their gym was much larger than one belonging to Yako and Karasuno’s gym is even tinier, and you can't help looking in the wonder. You really, really shouldn’t marvel at the hint of _normality_ in your life, but how people can train in such a small space? Black magic, clearly. 

You breathe in the air and well, you regret it immediately. It’s not really super, super smelly, or anything like that, but you can taste the sweat and blood in this room. Heavy, pungent smell that makes you regret ever living. Your gym never is like that, you moan to yourself. Are you supposed to spend like an hour here? Will they open the windows at least? When was the last time they cleaned the floor?

It’s not fair. Not fair at all. One experience like that and you start to miss your rich-ass school. You even start to like it. It feels wrong, though. Liking your dumb school, haha, not in this life. 

As you are lost in your thoughts, Osa drags you somewhere. One part of the court, you find. The one with some mature-looking players. They are not kids. They are adults. What are adults doing in High School? Don’t they have better things to do, like, actually work or cry about how much their lives suck? 

“You kids are pretty gutsy,” Adult Figure 1 says, “Just getting in like that?” 

You tilt your head, delicately, not wanting to hurt yourself. Gutsy? Does he mean stupid and moody? Because that’s what you are. Following Atsumu’s whim without any thought, because it’s Atsu.

“Can you even play when you are so old?” Osamu deadpans, “I hear your bones breaking when you lift a finger.” 

Adults figures seem to be a little bewildered by his profane language, but your friend doesn’t care, shaking you gently off his arm. You take a step backward, letting him go. 

“Try to keep up with us, okay?” Atsumu smiles at them innocently, which to be honest is a little bit terrifying, because he is everything but that, “We are not going easy at you, no matter what your age is.” 

“Cheeky brat!” Adult Figure B finally can respond, grinning like a lunatic at Atsu’s proclamation, “I like it. Hope you know how to put money where your mouth is!” 

“Please don’t eat money, Atsumu,” Rin narrows his eyes, “You are a person who ate sand, you cannot be trusted.”

“I was a child!” 

You take Osamu’s jacket and throw it over your arm before you offer your second arm to Atsu and Rin like a good little hanger. What a wonderful role to perform, but what can you do? You love those jerks and you want to help them, and it’s a little thing. They take off their jackets and give them to you. Rin mumbles quietly _thanks_ , while Atsu just hurls it at your face. You growl as you reach for it. Your ability to see is greatly appreciated, so remove the troublesome cloth, flip Atsumu, and walk away. There is not a lot of places to sit. None, to be honest.

That’s not a problem, not really. Rather something annoying. You decide to slide down the wall, choosing a place where you think no balls will find you. It’s not even something about being weak. It’s about not wanting to get hit with a missile that comes at you at the speed of hundreds of kilometers. 

“Found some sports clothes to lend you,” you hear Bleach Head’s words as he gives said clothes to your friends. You tilt your head in curiosity at him. As if he was reading your thoughts, he explains, “There is no way I can let teenagers work out in their normal 

You bite down on your lip, fighting back the urge to smile. Wait. As if he was reading your thoughts? Can he read your thoughts?! Mindreader, so close to the ancient evil overlord? Well, just one way to test your hypothesis. 

_You’re ugly bitch_ , you think will all of your strength, _Ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly._ He doesn’t react. He is really a good actor, or he is not actually a mind reader. One of those two. You put your friends’ jackets near you, as you bring your knees close to your chest. 

“Wow, thank you, old man,” comes Rin’s answer. 

Bad Dye sighs, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. Mindreader or no, he doesn’t stand a chance against you, twins, and Rin. You chuckle evilly at that. How long did it take you all to wear him off? It was probably a record. It’s too bad you don’t write those things in a notebook or something. 

“Just warm up!” 

Your friends start to change clothes, demeaning that modesty is for idiots. You very carefully avoid looking at Rin’s silhouette. You don’t want to like, check his out, or something by mistake. Gazing at twins is one thing - you don’t know how many times you saw them half-naked. 

Rin folds his clothes before leaving just next to you like the good person he is. Meanwhile, Atsumu hurls his at you, without even looking. Osamu sends him a disgusting look as lays his piled next to Rin. You take the mess Atsu left and kick it out of you. Fucker. 

He even dares to ignore your angry expression as they start warming up with that old-ass people. Or at least you think they do because they don’t dance to _Thriller Night._ That makes you sad. You would love to dance to it again. Or to _Smooth Criminal_. 

_Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?_

You hum lightly the tone of the song as you peer at the people in the gym. The Bleached Head stands next to a timid-looking adult. Is he the second coach? He doesn’t wear sportsman attire, though. Huh. If you think about it, when you were here last time, Bad Dye and Timid Glasses weren’t present. Not like - 

Oh, there she is. The girl who helped you before, the one who put bandaids on your face. She is Karasuno’s manager, perhaps. You peer at her and you can’t help a little gasp from leaving your mouth. _She is beauty, she is grace, she will kick you in the face_ saying was made to describe her. She is tall and slender, her black hair so perfect you wish to ask her what sort of shampoo and conditioner she does use. Her glasses make her look so sophisticated and elegant you feel like an ugly duckling in comparison. 

Isn’t she a little familiar? Graceful, elegant, beautiful, everything she is not. You nod slowly to yourself. You can see it. She looks very similar to the girl Atsu used to date. Wait, does it mean he would like to date this one as well? Should you call Matchmaker from Shiratorizawa? 

Were you too dazed to see it before? You bring your focus to another place, trying to see other things you could miss and come to an abrupt stop. Karasuno stares at you. Karasuno states at _all of you_. You hate it. They even stare at you, and while Nishinoya smiles and waves at you, the rest of them is not so kind. Not-Kakashi is looking worried just as Daichi, averting as much as gazing at you. The expression on Moon Tower can be only described with the word _cunt_. He so deserves to be hit by a smooth criminal. 

Kageyama doesn’t care about his teammates though, ignores someone’s question, and comes straight to you. You raise your hand in a wave, your fingers playfully gesticulating. He stops just ahead of you and takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry, Date-san,” he says quietly, lower lips quivering, “I didn’t think- “ 

“Why are you apologizing, Blueberry?” you interject, smiling gently before he can bow to you an apology again, “We just crashed your practice. I should be the one who is sorry.”

That’s true. You should. You are not, of course, you are not. How are you supposed to be when Tsu is shining with happiness? Sam, who for the untrained eye could look sullen, is full of joy as well, his eyes glowing as he warms up. You cannot talk about Rin, not when you don’t know him as well, but he seems - well, he doesn’t seem angry or disappointed. Kageyama frowns at your words, though. You arch your eyebrow at him in silent question, but he doesn’t seem to notice, as his fists clutch. He raises his eyes, looking determined and confident. 

“I want to play against them,” he tells you, “I want to compete against your childhood friends, so there’s nothing you should be sorry about.”

 _He looks so cool._ Like a protagonist from an anime. Your heart skips a beat and you feel suddenly giddy, a light feeling spreading through your chest. You can’t help the admiration you feel for him even if he sounds a little bit suicidal. You can like him very much, but there’s no way you want him to win. The only people who can leave out as winners are your friends. And those adults too, you suppose. 

“Then no apologizing, Blueberry Cupcake,” you grin at him, before crinkling your nose in confusion, “What did you need me for, though? You called me, right?” 

All of his confidence disappears like the touch of a magic wand. You blink as his cheeks become redder and redder. How can he change his demeanor so fast? 

“I have s-something for you,” he stutters out, “P-please wait for me after the match!” 

With that out of the way, he turns around and walks away to his team, leaving you confused as hell. You wrinkle your nose and bring a finger to your lip in silent wonder. 

Something for you? Like what? Did he build a nuclear bomb and need somebody to smuggle it out? Not to be rude, but he doesn’t look like a person who builds nuclear weapons in his room. You remember the way his palms felt. Delicate, soft, lovely. Hands of the person who loved volleyball more than their own life. Yeah, not the mad scientist type. You return to humming as he goes away, returning to looking at your friends. Warm-ups are not something interesting, so you don’t understand why they don’t just dance it off. Injuries-smujuries. You doze a little off, singing in your mind as they go through basic exercises. 

It takes way too much time for your liking, so you take your pocky bag from Osamu’s pocket. You know he will not mind, as long as this is from his left patch - that one belongs to you by his degree, after all. It’s not matcha, but oreo is good, you will take that gladly.

You open the carton and take the package out, starting to fight with it as the match finally starts. The one to serve is not Atsu or Osa, or Rin, but somebody else, so you can focus on your package. It’s so hard to open, who did design these? You blink as your package suddenly opens, taking a stick to your mouth as you eye the court. Huh? It’s strange. Where is the ball? It was in Cupcake’s hands a moment ago. Now it’s gone, though. Do balls disappear like that -? 

_Boink._

A little noise escapes from your throat. You cover your mouth, fighting back the shriek in your throat. _What was that? What happened?_ How did the ball get from Kageyama’s hand to the floor just near you?

“Hey, you!” Bad Dye shouts out, his hand pointed at Carrot Cake, “What was that?!” 

“So cool! Samu, did you see that?! Did you?!” Atsumu’s voice comes next, mindblowing you even further. What are they talking about? You wrinkle your nose in wonder, as you hear reactions and points change to 1 - 0 for Karasuno. 

“It was fucking freaky,” Osamu answers dryly, “His eyes were closed, Tsumu, no way I will do that.” 

“But that is so freaking cool!" 

“Isn’t it?!” 

You don’t know what is happening. Time to eat away your stress. Why are they so excited? What did Carrot Cake do? You take a bunch of sticks in your hand and start to munch on them, too confused and tired to try to understand. 

“I don’t care how cool it was!” Coach Dye screams out, rudely interrupting whatever strange frenzy both Atsu and Suncake were at, “What did you do, shortie?! How did you know where it was coming from?! And where to jump?!” 

“You look in the wrong direction, old man,” Atsu cheerfully corrects him, raising his finger in the air, as if he was a professor teaching a class, “The shortie over here just jumped, the one who did all the work was Tobio-kun.” 

Blueberry Cupcake? You don’t understand a word. Are they speaking even Japanese? You suddenly feel so _dumb_. Nobody even questions him, looking at Kageyama like at the god. 

“Our King is very talented,” comes the derisive tone of Moon Tower, “What couldn’t he do?”

“Shut up, Glasses, your betters are speaking,” Atsu doesn’t even look at the tall-ass twink. That’s good, he doesn’t deserve your friend’s attention anyway, but it's strange how the blond is focusing his whole being on the black-haired setter, “His toss was perfectly accurate, coming straight to the spiker’s hand. That's impressive and it is something most of the national-level setters can’t do. I think you could compete with Itachiyama’s Iizuna, Tobio-kun.”

There is something about the way he behaves. The chemistry between him and Blueberry that’s easy to see, but hard to understand. You peer your shoulders, hesitant. 

Is - is he hitting on Kageyama? You don’t know. Is - is he?! Oh god. He totally is. He is into him. Does it mean he likes to tease people he likes? He didn’t behave like that with his girlfriend at all! Not that you spend a lot of time with her. For fuck’s sake, you don’t even remember her name. On the other hand, you are not able to say Omimimimimi’s name, so maybe you are just bad at that whole people thing. 

That’s not important, though. What’s is important is fucking AtsuAtsu being confusing and frustrating. You are bent out of shape, trying to understand the complicated feelings of one Atsumu Miya. You will help if he wants to go for Blueberry Cupcake. You have his number, you can pass it along, but he has to give you some sort of clue. You are not Sherlock Holmes, damn it, you need something more oblivious. 

His attraction toward Kageyama is a tad strange anyway. It feels like it’s coming out of nowhere, so excuse you for being so disoriented. Maybe that’s the love-hate relationship you read so much about and this is why he was so adamant about hating him, who knows? Not you, that’s for sure. Stupid Atsumu. 

“Thank you?” you nearly don’t hear Kageyama’s confused mumble. It seems Atsumu can’t flirt after all if you read Blueberry’s reaction correctly. He seriously has to give you some sort of hint then! 

“But you know,” Atsu continues, even though he really shouldn’t, “I’m still better.” 

Oh my god, that bitch. The fond smile roses on your face. The silence that envelops the gym is profound as everybody tries to comprehend the level of arrogance he just displayed. If there were Guinness Record for being condescending, it would be held by your friend. You can see Osamu’s disgust from far. Time to be a good manager, then. 

“Hey, garbage, go back to the trash heap,” you heckle, “Or don’t, because they will not want you there. You are too much of trash for them, go back to the bottom of the lake.” 

Your voice seems to shocks some of them. You can’t help but think they are wimps, really. Atsu intimidates them so easily, and no one even tries to fight back. You can’t be so complacent when you deal with twins. You have to cut them out fast, like weeds. Oh, you like that. The _Miya tweeds_ sound absolutely perfect. 

“Hey, on whose side you are?” Atsu turns to you, his lips curled in a cocky smile. His words are full of fake indignation, as he pretends to be angry. He is not, of course, he is not. Stupid, proud donkey, “You are supposed to side with me, sunny.” 

“Fuck off,” you reply without hesitation, pressing your hands to your knees, “I’m always on SamSam’s side. He is my favorite twin and my best friend.”

You see Osamu nearly preen on your words, the content glint in his eyes visible even from the distance. You snicker at that. It’s adorable how much pride he takes in being your _best_ friend. It’s super childish of him, which only shows how he and Atsu are so similar.

“Get rekt, Atsumu,” comes the lazy drawl of Suna, as his gaze glaze over all of you, “You are disgustingly adorable, how people deal with this? Are you dating? Are you not? Who knows. Definitely not the two of you. Cute, dense motherfuckers.” 

You bite down on your lip. _This_ again? And from Rin, not Akagi or Gintama?! He should know better - wait, he probably does. Okay, that’s just Rin being Rin. Like with Pretty Girl Incident, he is teasing you. Idiot. He should leave such things in private. Not in front of the public! 

Yeah, about the public. To your mortification, Karasuno’s team perks up at that. The shiver goes up your spine. Why are people always going for your relationship’s angle?! Can’t you be just affectionate with your male friends without being called a couple? And why are they fucking interested in that, anyway? It’s not their business anyway. You puff your cheeks, glaring at them.

That’s your first mistake. 

You nearly tremble as you catch Moon Tower’s gaze. He - he is motherfucking seizing you up, you were two generals across the straits, about to cross each other in an epic battle. Only you don’t want to battle with Moon Tower. You did your best to not dwell on his words. He is a louse, full of shit and hate, and doesn’t deserve your attention, honestly. No matter how - 

_No matter how -_

_(Aren’t you a little too dependent on them? That’s honestly pathetic.)_

_~~(Dependent on them so much, Date. You are so pathetic.)~~ _

You look at him. 

_~~You only see her.~~ _

Hair in the color of the sand, reflecting on polished walls,

_~~Black hair, blacker than ink, the color reflecting on the tiles,~~ _

and, tall, gods, he is so tall.

~~_taller than you just like everyone_. ~~

There’s something malicious in his condescending smile and -

_~~There’s something cruel in her beautiful smile and -~~ _

You flinch, the unwanted memory mixing with reality. Blood on the tiles, words echoing the room, never stopping, just words, words, words - her face, her grin, her eyes, her, her, her, her, her - 

Your hand taps on your knees, habit not yours bringing you to reality. You thank Kakashi Look-alike in your mind. Even when he is not with you anymore, he still helps you. Asshole would be so damn proud of himself - 

Moon Tower doesn’t say anything. You thank the ghosts of your ancestors for that. You despise him, you realize. You hate him only because he makes you think of somebody else. That’s wrong. That’s - that’s - you can’t be like this. It’s okay to loathe if they deserve it if they hurt you if they _unmade_ you. It’s not okay if you don’t see them, only their mirror image, hear words that they didn’t say. 

You are an awful person. You know it. You bring your knees even closer, embracing them tighter, trying to find solace. You can’t stand him. It was fine when he was far. It was fine when he didn’t look at you. It was fine when Atsu and Osa were not witnesses to your weakness again. Not now, though, it’s not fine now. You bring your hand to your lips and bite on your nail before you realize what is happening, and hastily put your hand away. 

“Shut up, RinRin,” Atsu’s voice comes like from the fog, so far, far away, “Let’s get back to the game.”

“Someone is jealous.” 

_“I’m not!_ ” 

You can’t focus. You hear people talking, you see them moving, but you are only able to discern the voices of your friends. The game starts again. Or at least you think so, still trying to forget, hiding the memories in the corner of your mind. You have to do it fast. Faster. Before they can realize and be worried again. You know that they will stop the match for you. They will throw their dreams away for you. 

You don’t want that.

 _Go away, bitch_ , you think, _I don’t want you._ She - or he - is relentless, so you bite down on your lip, bite so hard you feel the iron taste of the blood in your mouth. It makes you wonder, can vampires bite through their lips? Can they drink their own blood? They are undead, so they don’t have blood, right, so what would happen if they bit their lip? Would they suck out their life force? 

Wait. That’s a stupid thing to ponder. Your soft giggle comes closer to sound like the sob, but you try your best to ignore that, returning to reality and looking at the score. 5 - 3 for your boys. Huh. You were really out of it. Who did score what?

You nearly jump as you feel an intense aura aimed at you. You lift your head and, yeah, SamSam undoubtedly noticed your strange mood. You wave at him weakly, doing your best to smile and look as innocent and merry as ever. Yeah, that doesn’t work. He narrows his eyes, before he comes to Atsu, leaning to whisper something. Fuck. The blond looks at you as well, his eyes full of worry.

That’s it, you are going to return them, you want new childhood friends. How the hell are they so reliable?! Why those menaces are such good people? You feel pissed off about that. How dare they be so kind and nice?

You wrinkle your nose, determining that you should concentrate on the game. The serve comes out from Karasuno’s side. You don’t know the person at the end line, but he looks even older than the adults on your side. Is he a high schooler? Or is he a spy pretending to be one? 

Well, it shouldn’t matter anyway. Maybe you would be more impressed with his serve if you didn’t see Aran’s, Atsu’s, or Sam’s before. It looks a little bit clumsy, to be honest, not that you are a reliable person to call someone’s performance in the sport. It’s dug up by one of the adults on your team. You try to follow the ball further, but your eyes stop on Osamu’s. He is not standing like an idiot just watching you, thank goodness, but why does he jump when Atsumu didn’t set? 

Is that how it works? You never saw them doing anything like that before. You are the first person to say you suck at understanding volleyball, but even to you, it feels strange. 

The noise of a ball slamming the floor takes you away from any unsaid thoughts. _Help, it’s again._ The ball just teleported. You didn’t see it in Atsu’s hands, you didn’t see it in Osa’s palm, it’s just disappeared! It’s so freaky. Is that gym fucking haunted?! Why is nobody reacting to it anyway? They just stand around, astonished, but don’t say shit about what happened. Ugh, is something wrong with them or you? 

A little crinkle appears on your nose, as you watch the unfolding scene. Osamu diverts his attention from glaring at the opposing team, ever - so - slowly shifting his gaze at you. He straight-up attacks you with his puppy eyes. 

_That idiot._ That’s exactly why, Your Honor, you want to exchange your friends. At this point, you feel like they will kill. Needy, whimsy, annoying. You love them. You love them so much. 

“Nice murder, Sam-chan,” you clap for him obediently, making sure your face is nearly sparking with adoration he rightfully deserves, “I don’t know what happened, but you are the coolest.”

Your voice seems to wake everybody out of their stupor. The adults on your team cheer as they move, patting your friends’ on their backs. 

“You really are not so bad, kids!” Adult 1 says, his voice full of newfound respect and adoration, “You had something like them all along?!” 

“No, we never did it before,” Atsumu’s lips draw into a smile, “I’m better, I told you.” 

Rin rolls his eyes at heaven, or rather, at the ceiling. You know what he feels. He is showing up, nearly eating all the praise people throw at him, though you feel him observing you with the corner of his eye. Karasuno reacts bizarrely. They look so shocked as if they saw a ghost. Hey, maybe the gym is haunted after all? You peer at Blueberry and your heart cracks as you see his face. 

It reminds you of the expression he had made yesterday. You don’t like it. You wish you could hold his hand, ask what’s wrong and promise you will beat everybody who tries to hurt him. 

“Hinata and Kageyama’s weird quick?!”

His expression changes, becoming something unfamiliar, freezing, and cold. Cupcake doesn’t look like that normal. Something is wrong - maybe that’s because of the words spoken by somebody from his team. It somehow sounds very dirty. Disgusting. What are they even talking about? Like, Blueberry Cupcake doesn’t have anything weird! You are not sure about the quick. He probably can set very quickly, you guess, but - Oh, are they talking about spike? Like, weird quick spike? But why are talking about it now? 

You want to gaze back at Blueberry, but he turns around. You release a soft noise from your mouth. You will talk with him about it later, you suppose. You just hope he is alright. Osamu beams at you as you return your attention to him, worries in his eyes not gone, not truly, just put away for the moment. You feel sweat dripping from your forehead. He is easy sometimes to please, only returning to the problem when you are not ready, acting just like the devil he is. 

“No!” Atsu shrieks, catching your attention, as he motions his hand wildly in the air as he points to himself, “Listen, [Name], it was all thanks to me, so this point was mine, so it means I’m the coolest! 

You roll your eyes, “What are you, fucking five?” 

“That felt disgusting anyway,” Osa nods, his face impassive, as he narrows his eyes at his twin, “Revolting. Repellant. Repulsive.” 

Somehow, you feel his words are not really directed to Atsumu. That’s curious, what can your silver-haired friend want more than to destroy all joy in his twin’s life? 

“What do you mean?! You are supposed to tell me how cool I was! What’s wrong with you, Samu?!”

“Shut your trap! I couldn’t decide where the ball was supposed to go! It felt like I was your puppet, you fucker!”

“All of the points you make are mine anyway, so it can go where I want to go! A score is a score!” 

“You are just too stupid to fix that!” 

“What?! If you are so wise, then do it yourself! You fucking can’t, huh?!” 

“Did you just _curse_ at me, shithead?!”

You spy Rin taking out his phone from somewhere. Does he have pockets in his pants for that? Then why was he holding his hands under them in matches before?! No, wait, those pants are different from his uniform. Or at least you hope they are. Where is he hiding it? It just disappeared! Jesus Christ, so many things happen. You hate Miyagi. You really do. 

Bleached Head clears his throat, starting everybody but the twins, who would rather die than listen to another human being. Bad Dye doesn’t understand that, though. You can nearly imagine Kurosu looking at him with pity. 

“Let’s go ahead, hey! Not stopping in the middle of the set. Brats!” 

Should you help him? Probably. 

“Hey, fuckers!” you scream out for them, “The first one to stop that stupid fight can choose what we’re watching tonight!” 

They stop instantly. You trained them well, didn’t you? You snicker, as they calm down and return to their station. The game resumes. The one serving now is Rin, who tosses the ball in the air the moment the whistle comes off. His reactions are really super fast. You would probably just stay here and watch nothing for hours before you even tried to serve.

Karasuno spikes the ball again, the same old man who served before, but it’s received once again. Atsumu moves first, which means he will be the one to set this time. You lean in, observing. Atsu actually jumps up in the place so far from the ball that even you raise your eyebrow at that. The one who moves to set is Osamu to your surprise. Your breath hitches. 

Time stops. 

The ball is in the air. Just spinning and spinning, forever left in the suspense. Atsu moves his palm, slamming it down, leaving the gym silent in his wake, destroying everything in his way. 

You blink again. What. What. This is what was happening all the time?! You definitely see why everyone is so befuddled all the time! That’s - that’s amazing. Something straight out of anime, the super special move you hear about just before the fight with the 

It was Deus ex Machina Spike, oh my god. 

“What was that, Samu?!” Atsumu’s voice echoing in the bewildered gym, “It was different! It was super different! I could see clearly and choose - that’s not fair, it was so cool!” 

SamSam sighs, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I fucking fixed it, idiot. You are welcome.”

* * *

(ΦωΦ) Hewwo. I present to you another 8k of Miya twins being menaces. Sorry, I didn't bully Karasuno so much, but it's only the first part of the chapter. Can't fucking believe how many things I want to throw into it... Only gave trauma to only like, three of them right now. Don't worry, we still have time to change that. The chapter is later than usual, but Hearts of Iron 4 didn't want to give me any free time. Stupid, wonderful game.

Now, with stupid things out of the way. Something very important. Wonderful _[RockyG](https://www.quotev.com/RockyG84171)_ from Quotev drew the fanart for this silly, silly fic. [_Suna calling MC a pretty girl._](https://i.postimg.cc/ryH1qzqn/Untitled12-20201116163722.png) Look at it. It's so pretty? Like, Suna is looking fond and teasing, and I can't, I'm deceased. Please, throw love at them. They don't want to take mine D:

About henna: Dyeing hair with henna is a little bit complicated. Atsu’s blond was very hard to achieve for MC because he had to bleach his brown hair, then dye it with normal henna. Natural henna dyes hair to red, if you want another color, you have to use henna with other things. Like, for brown, you use henna + indigo. If you want black, you use indigo. The longer you have henna on your hair and the longer you don’t use shampoo on your hair after using henna (you are supposed to rinse the henna out of the hair with water alone and don’t clean it for at least 48 hours), the more different colors can be. It’s way healthier for hair, though, so I think it’s worth it.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and have a wonderful day ~


	32. In which Osamu goes to the war (it's a pity the casus belli is so stupid).

You are a clingy person. 

Very clingy. 

Probably too clingy. 

Honestly, it’s not your fault. You find yourself giving hugs or holding hands with your friends very often. You love smothering twins with affection. They are wonderful people, deep, deep down. Showing them just how tender your feelings are is natural. It’s not strange for you to feel the compulsion to hug or kiss them. To be honest, it’s more uncanny for you to fight the sudden urge with all the willpower you possess. 

Like you do now. That’s an uncomfortable feeling. You wish it could go away as you hug your knees and eat your snacks. It doesn’t. 

The person to blame for your current predicament is Osamu, which is even more unusual because most of the time Atsumu is the one who causes trouble for you. Damn your beautiful angel of a friend. He is just too _huggable_. 

You are incapable of clinging to him right now just like a koala clutches a tree. 

It’s a tragedy of your lifetime. You don’t want to step on the court. You are not dumb enough to even consider such action, no matter how much you crave to offer your tenderness to your silver-haired friend. 

The playing ground of volleyball is a battlefield, full of bullets and rockets and you refuse to let even one of your fingers lay there. You are not suicidal, damn it. There is no way in hell you are going to enter the court. Nunu, never, no way, you can’t be bribed into this. Just thinking about getting hit by a spinning orb of death makes all your bruises hurt. You are already purple like a dumb representation of someone’s idea about aliens, you don’t need a concussion or broken bone. 

Osamu waits patiently for your answer, his honey-colored eyes watching you intently. You sigh, thinking about your option. So, what’s a girl can do if she is not capable of hugging her best friend? 

You feel a small smile tugging on your lips. You bring your hands together shaping your fingers into a small heart. His face instantly becomes softer as he passes a gentle smile in your direction with his ears just a tad redder. You giggle at that, covering your mouth as you notice the adults from the team coming closer to pat your friend appreciatively on the back. 

“Both of you clones are something!” Adult 2 laughs. He is putting way too much force into the slap that he gives Osamu if you read the read his eyes correctly, “I didn’t see anything like that before! You had to practice that one.” 

You feel an evil edge appearing to your otherwise innocent smile. You are pretty sure it’s the first time you ever saw Deus ex Machina which just proves to the world how amazing they are. If only Puffy could see that. 

“Not really,” Osa affirms, his tone light and careless, “I just thought that seemed like a fun thing to do.” 

“Who would play volleyball if it was boring?” Atsumu agrees, though there is still a childish pout on his face. _Pout_. You cling your lips together in a desperate effort not to wheeze. He is pouting, “If you see a nice play, doesn’t it make you copy it?” 

“Dear viewers, here we see demons in their natural environment, being trash to other people, that’s it,” Rin comments loudly, holding his hand near his mouth, imitating a very clunky microphone, “Let’s see what else will they do to completely crush the mood of the opposing team. Probably breathe. That would make me feel depressed.” 

He sounds strangely fondly for someone with such a cold, tired voice. Are they growing on him? Like mushrooms. Or weeds. Miya tweeds. 

But that pout. That pout! Now. Now you can finally take the photo of Atsumu’s disgrace. Ever so slowly, you reach for your phone to snap a fast photo of that magnificent picture. Your palms are a little bit slippery, though, and you have to catch it when it falls out of your fingers. 

“For someone who is just as trash as us, you sure are critical, Rin - kun,” Atsu comes close to his twin, reaching to his hair to ruffle it gleefully, grinning widely the entire time, “Samu, Samu, Samu, I’m going to do it next - “

It doesn’t land on the floor, thanks to all gods, western and eastern. You do catch it mid-air and recover it safely. You bring it hastily back and despair. It’s too late to take a photo now though, which makes you pout in turn.

God damn it. Every fucking time. 

“What are you, six, Tsumu?” Osamu shoves his twin hand away, but you notice a small grin on his face anyway, “Are you sure you can even do it? It’s my move after all.” 

“Of course I can! Everything you can do, I can do better!”

Wait. You blink. Why is Atsu now starting a musical? You want it. You open your mouth, ready to sing, but - You think better of that. Yeah, it’s not the best idea ever, probably, to sing here. So many people around - yeah, you don’t want to sing near them. 

_Near Moon Tower._

At the thought of him, you involuntarily bring your gaze to Karasuno’s side. Huh. They are all huddled together in a circle, speaking about something in low tones. Are they having a conspiracy discussion without you? That’s just rude! You know some very cool conspiracies and now, they will never hear about them. Never. 

Your peer at them suspiciously, your finger coming to your mouth. Wait. Moon Tower is there. Scratch that, you don’t want to have anything to do with them if the bean pole is in that conversation. Not that he would ever join something fun like talking about Illuminati or Freemasons manipulating the events. Is it possible that Washijo is Illuminati? No, disregard that thought. He wouldn’t be so secretive with their support. Returning to the subject at hand, Moon Tower is too awful of the person to ever have any sort of fun. 

Which means. They are having a strategy meeting. They look nervous, somehow, making you think they are the government of the country that is just losing the war. That’s interesting. That’s not boring. You should get some popcorn and watch the drama unfold. The thing is, you don’t have popcorn. You still have your pocky sticks, though. You take several of them and shove them into your mouth. 

Okay, how are you supposed to eavesdrop on them from such a distance? You are a pathetic ninja if you can’t even come with a solution to the problem like that. KGB wouldn’t ever take you. Or any resistance, to be honest.

You can’t have that. 

You take a deep breath and cautiously start to move, crawling your way closer to them. Like, not super close - you don’t think it’s a good idea to stand beside Moon Tower. You can fight anybody, of course. You are ready to throw your hands at any given time. You are full of illogical loathing. Definitely not scared. You are full of anger and determination to make any person’s life a living hell, no matter if they are taller than you. Your height gives you an advantage anyway. 

Just.

Maybe not him. 

Not now. 

_Not her._

That’s not how the mafia works, after all. You shouldn’t just stand up and skip ahead to them, no matter how warmly you would be welcomed by Yuu and Blueberry. So, the infiltration route is out of the window.

A nervous giggle escapes your mouth. 

They say curiosity killed the cat. 

You are not the cat. 

_Bunch of evil foxes, [Name], you are all bunch of evil foxes._

You bring all of your courage. It takes a few seconds, but you try to move subtly as a ninja, as sneakily as a snake, and get just a tad closer. You close your eyes, trying to concentrate on the other side of the court, your curiosity piqued way too much.

“- can do something like that - “ 

“- never tried before - “

“ - it’s okay, everyone, just calm down - “ 

“ - Stop being such a wimp, Asahi-san - “ 

“ - not possible for you, idiot - “ 

“ - but that was so cool, the emperor - “ 

Got ‘em. 

Not that you understand anything. It’s still hard to hear, so abandon the ship, captain, before you are found. You slide right back to your place, unnoticed, successfully returning to the motherland. You have some intel on the enemy. Not that it helps you much. Wait, can you call them an enemy? It’s not like they are like AobaSomething or Shiratorizawa. The rest of your team is not here, so they are not your opponents. 

That’s sad. You wonder if Shinsuke would play with you if he was there. It’s a stupid thought, isn’t it? He is too perfect of a human being to sneak off with you. How much fun could you have with robo-dad? You kind of wish he was there. 

On the other hand, Momjiro would sneak off with you, if only to watch over you like a hawk. You can see Akagi tagging along with Gintama. You don’t need Gintama, but if he has to, you guess you can live with his presence nearby. Which makes you think about them. You look back at your phone, looking at the hour. It’s nearly seven. Are you coaches even sobber now? Probably not. 

You wrinkle your nose, looking back to your friends. They are slowly getting back to their positions on the court, and Karasuno can’t stale them away much longer. What is their deal anyway? They look so nervous _you_ feel second-hand anxiety. 

Are they scared of twins? Why? If they are worried about Spinning Ball of Death, didn’t they execute something similar? Your intel was too incomplete to conclude that, so you take the last pocky stick of the pack. As you munch on it, you can’t help but catch something particular.

What’s wrong with Blueberry Cupcake? He looks so tense that your heart beats painfully in your chest. He didn’t have a good experience with twins, none of them did, but they shouldn’t behave like they are bearers of Black Death itself. 

They are stupid idiots and awful people, _but_ \- 

Okay, that’s not how you defend people. It feels bad that people you care about aren’t fond of each other. It would be nice if the twins had more friends. Or significant others. 

You have to get back on that matchmaker plan of yours. Osa will be more complicated, so you will start with Atsu. The pretty manager girl stands next to points, but you feel the blond doesn’t look at her. 

Would Tsu and Kageyama be a good pair? Well, you like them both, they both play volleyball and they are setters. Yep, they would be the perfect couple. Kageyama is apprehensive about your blond friend, but it’s fine, you can work with it. This is where you are going to start then. Osa will have to wait a bit, but it’s his fault for never looking at anybody but you and Atsumu. 

Huh. Maybe Osa is the clingiest one of your three then? You always make fun of Atsumu for not letting you go anywhere without one of you, but he at least had a girlfriend, unlike you or SamSam. You don’t about Osamu, but you -

It - it’s not like you had much interest in - in d - dating. Not that anyone would want to date you anyway. Not that you care about having s - significant o - other. You don’t need a boyfriend. You don’t want a boyfriend. Friendship is where it is. Friendship is what counts the most. 

You pocket the empty package and embrace your knees, bringing them even closer. You ignore the voices in your head, placing your head comfortably and snapping your attention back to the court. 

The match resumes. 

Karasuno still seems to be uncertain and pale, the total opposite of your friends’ team. Both twins stand confident as ever, though Atsu’s posture holds certain arrogance to that you came to associate with him a long time ago. Rin, impassive as ever, takes the ball, going for a soft serve. It’s not as cool as others you saw, but there is some skill on it as it doesn’t end on the net. If you dared to try, you definitely wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Rolling Thunder!” comes the scream and you find yourself gazing on Nishinoya, who looks like he just, well, rolled his way to receive.

You don’t think you will ever be able to understand what kind of sport is volleyball. Is that normal behavior? Like, nobody on your team rolls on the floor for a ball. Atsu sometimes screams stupid names when he and Osa play, but it’s Atsumu. He can never be taken as the norm.

One way or another, the ball makes its way to Blueberry’s soft fingers. You squint a little at him. You called him tense before but the word doesn’t suit him anymore. He looks changed on the court, calm and collected.

Something isn’t right. It’s a feeling you have. A disturbance in the Force, you can say. You don’t understand _what_ and _why_ but the worry arises in you. 

_Intended as an insult_ , he said then and you swore you would do anything to help him. Should you stop the game? But twins wanted to _play_. You frown. Instead of setting the ball he simply boinks it to the other side of the net. It’s what Atsu did two days ago, you think. Or at least it would be. Rin moves fast, blocking it right back on the Karasuno’s side of the net. _Setter dump_. That’s what Gintama called that, so you are not a fan of that terminology. It’s a miracle you remember it. You really shouldn’t. Couldn’t they go for a better name? 

You suck up your breath. You were right. Something is wrong. Why were you right? Being right sucked. You don’t want to be right. Not this time. Maybe not ever! Blueberry looks dazed, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He seems so sad for the moment that you feel obligated to stand up and kidnap him at that moment. It’s not fair. It’s not fair nobody is there for him - 

You try to move up, but before you can, you see Dadchi coming to finally check on his blue son. He says something, smiling like a dad, but he doesn’t move to pat his back or even reassuringly put his hand on Blueberry’s shoulder. What sort of dad is he?! He doesn’t deserve that title. You are getting adoption papers, damn it! 

“[Name]?”

You shift your attention to Osamu. You don’t know when he entered your view. He is way too close and you curse at yourself for not noticing his proximity. What if he was a serial killer? You are losing your edge. It’s stress, probably.

“Do you feel a disturbance in the time-space continuum when I feel _meh,_ Sam-chan?” you ask him, putting your hands up, asking silently for help in standing. 

“Yes,” he answers, reaching over to you and gently setting you up without any trouble. Damn you, you handsome athlete, for being so strong and nice, and kind. You smile at him, still feeling bitter disappointment about the actions of Daichi. 

He should have done more. 

Shinsuke would do more. 

“What’s up, people not suffering from crippling depression?” Suna lazily joins you and soon you see with the corner of your eye Atsu following in his steps, “How is life down here?” 

You wish it was one of the twins who said it because you don’t want to kick Rin. Or at least this is what you say to yourself as you reluctantly fight the urge off and just flip him off instead.

“Murder,” you sniff in answer, lifting your head to look at the silver-headed twin, “Are you in, OsaOsa?” 

“For you? Always,” Osamu gives you an answer, his voice soft. He is never the one to disappoint you, “Do you even have to ask at this point?” 

You take hold of his shirt and beckon him to lean forward. He does so without any hesitation, trusting you with all of his heart. You boop his nose the moment you can reach it, smiling slightly. Osamu beams at you gently as he reaches with one of his hands to caress your cheek gently. 

You feel a little bit like a cat under his palm, so you do what cats do, or at least what good, nice kittens _do_. You nuzzle it affectionately, causing your friend to stammers in surprise. That makes you giggle, forgetting for the moment your current trouble. 

“Wait, you don’t feel alright? What’s wrong, sunshine? Do you need me to call a doctor?”

Your smile wavers. You glare at Atsumu. 

“Why is your first reaction a call to a sadist?” 

“[Name],” he moans out your name loudly, causing you to roll your eyes, “Are you sad, my dearest? Do you need your Atsu-chan to give you a big hug?”

His hand comes to your other cheek, caressing it tenderly. You nearly forgive him for using such demeaning words but then he pinches your cheek, making you hiss. He laughs as he proceeds to perch his arm at your head, showing once again, why exactly you prefer Osamu. You puff your cheeks, as you try to smack him away. It doesn’t work, not really, so you growl to his amusement. 

He is the worst. The better twin doesn’t make fun of your height, because he knows you are totally fine with being short and down to earth, not like some people who only think about clouds and volleyball.

“Fucker,” you comment sweetly, “I wish you tripped on the court.” 

He laughs, taking a step back from you. Osamu sighs, pulling his hand away as well, glaring murder at him. 

“I’m too good for something like that,” Atsumu shows off, smirking with such hubris you snort at him. His twin rolls his eyes very profoundly at those words. 

“I saw you trip on the court from excitement,” he comments. 

“It was a long time ago,” Atsu waves his twin’s comment off. Osa narrows his eyes at that, his tongue becoming sharper as he continues to tease his brother. 

“It happened today.” 

The fight is brewing, y’all. No popcorn and no pocky sticks to eat, to your 

At that Atsumu pulls the silver-haired’s shirt closer to him, his eyes gleaming with anger. You clasp your hand, taking a step back and nearly walking into Rin. You fluster at the contact, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he head pats you before he passes you over.

_“Not you, though, pretty girl.”_

_Ayayayyayayayay._

You bring your hands closer to your face to cover it. It’s becoming warm. Way too warm. Being so red is not healthy, not healthy at all, you think desperately. Stupid RinRin. Truly, God should smite Rintarou Suna off the earth. He is going to kill you by what he is doing! You don’t deserve such torture! If you have to die, let it be quick. 

“Hey, Samu, did I tell you today I hate you?” 

“Only three times,” Rin interjects, uninterested, causing you to jump. His voice is dangerous. Everything about him is dangerous. And it happens when you think, you got over it. Why is the world so cruel to you? What did you do in your former life to justify the way you are treated?

“Wait, [Name], what’s wrong?” and of course, the second demon instantly noticed your mood. You practically feel the whole gazing at you now. You stutter, looking through your fingers at him.

Does he truly look concerned? You don’t know. You can’t decipher the strange glint in his eyes. It’s something - something grave, you suppose. It makes him older, more handsome, and much more mature. 

It’s not overprotectiveness, you know. It’s something much darker and sadder. You fight back the panicked squeal. You compared yourself to a snake before, but maybe you are truly a mouse? Oh, Cthulhu. Rin’s dumb words are driving you insane. How pathetic.

“N - nothing,” you stutter, showing clearly there is something wrong. You feel a sudden urge to hide in his chest, so this is exactly what you do, “G-go back to playing volleyball, you - you monkey. Capitalist pig. Scrub. Scooby-doo.” 

“That’s how you are going to insult it, lovely? Scooby-doo?” you hear him sigh and then feel his lips on the crown of your head. He leaves a tender kiss, trying to comfort you even though he doesn’t feel well as well, that idiot, “How I’m supposed to when you are clinging to me, sunshine?”

“D-dummy,” you shove him a little, getting freedom back. You flash him a peace sign, give Osamu a low five, and poke Rin at the shoulder, before turning away and plopping back at your place on the floor. 

Didn’t koala-hug anyone, embarrassed, and not by Atsumu. 0/10. Ayayayayayyayaya. You hide your face in your knees, ending the discussion, leaving boys to their own devices. They totally made you forget about Kageyama being sad, damn it. You embrace your knees, hiding your face in them further. You really, really can’t deal with Rin’s agenda. One minute you think you are fine, the next one his words are spinning through your head, making you a miserable, flushing mess. 

“[Name]! That’s not fair - “ 

“Come on, Tsumu, leave her alone already.” 

“To be [Name] Date, sitting and dying slowly on the floor.” 

“Rin, stop bullying her.”

“I’m not bullying anyone, demon twin number one.” 

It takes a few seconds, but you finally hear the shuffling of the feet on the floor. Good, good, go away, leave you alone with your embarrassment. You breathe out heavily, trying to calm down your racing heart. 

The time stops for no one and so the match continues, thank god. You start peering at it, resting your chin on your knees. From what you can understand your boys are winning. You know mostly because of the score that is carefully calculated by the actual pretty girl.

Huh. 

Like, yes, she is pretty, but Rin doesn’t call her that. Or he is simply not interested in her. That’s good. It means Atsu has a chance if he wants to date her and not Cupcake. Maybe he is shy? Is calling a friend Pretty Girl is his rite of passage? Like, you achieved Level Support B, you are now to be known as Pretty Girl! So he is not teasing you. Okay, okay, now just your pulse has to understand that. 

It doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t. Stupid heart. You groan into your legs as your friends score again. Atsu exchanges high five with one of the adults, smirking the whole time. 

“Your toss is easy to hit, you know, brat,” the adult ruffles his hair. What. How dare he?! Nobody but you and Osamu can ruffle Atsu’s hair! And maybe Mama Miya, and Shiina, and their grandma, and - 

Okay, only you and his family can ruffle that painstakingly dyed hair. You huff, feeling a little bit angry, a little bit jealous before you bite down on your lip, fighting it back. You should be happy. It’s good they like him. That they like all of your friends. You don’t have to beat them down. 

_But._

Please, don’t praise him so much. He has a big enough ego as it is.

“Of course it is,” he agrees easily, provoking your point. He is looking so proud of himself you nearly can see a yellow glowing aura coming off him. 

“Can’t believe we are related,” can you even imagine the world without Osamu Miya? It would be miserable. Who would put Atsu in his place as good as him? “They had to exchange him in the hospital or something. That person can’t be my twin.” 

“Hey, the heck you mean, Samu?!” 

“Exactly what I said.” 

“You have the same face,” Rin deadpans at them. You giggle as the blond twin starts to scream at his brother before said twin kicks him, shoving him towards the end of the line. It takes a few minutes of him sulking, but he finally serves the ball, earning the so-called _No Touch Ace._

“Nice murder, Atsu-chan,” you clap your hands for him, which earns you a kiss sent in your direction. You titter at that, reaching your hand to pretend to catch it. 

“It’s a _nice kill,_ you brat!” 

You roll your eyes. Stupid Bleached Head. 

“Call me when I care, old man!” 

He growls at you, so you stick your tongue out at him before the ball comes to Atsu again. Your friend focuses intently on it before jumping up and earning the next point. And one, two, three -

A lot more. 

It seems he cannot be stopped, not until someone from their side - Daichi, you think, but you are not really sure, receives it with trouble, making your friend frown with displeasure. The ball comes back to Cupcake and this time, you can see him set, though, the spike is stopped by Suna. 

You clap for him, but maybe a little bit softer than you do for twins. Shier, you guess. He throws thumbs up at your gesture, seemingly appreciating your gesture nonetheless. 

“Asahi-san, stop being a wuss!” you see Yuu screaming at the spiker, “It’s my fault for not being able to dig it!” 

Nishinoya has no chill when it comes to volleyball at all. Does any of them do? You feel sweat dripping from your forehead in exasperation. How did you end interacting with people obsessed with volleyball anyway?

Ah yes, Atsu’s fault. 

“That's alright, Nishinoya. I’m the one who was blocked - “

“Stop being so nice to me, damn it!” 

Rin yawns, not caring in the slightest.

* * *

The match, as far as you are concerned, is over. Or at least the two sets, that’s it. How many sets are they supposed to play anyway? It’s starting to get dark and the floor is not getting more comfortable with time. 

At least you don’t have to be afraid of seeing twins’ broken face. They won easily, even without the support of the rest of your teammates. The difference in points is a big one. You don’t remember the first set, but the second one is 9 - 25. Your friends don’t look surprised by that at all as they return to you, taking hold of their clothes from the floor. You smack your lips, looking at them impatiently. 

“I’m hungry,” you announce to nobody’s surprise. Osamu hums lightly at that, taking a snack out of his pocket and handing it to you. Matcha biscuits, yummy yum. They are so cute, shaped in little pandas.

You very eagerly try to open the package and fail miserably yet again. How the fuck are they even making those packages? You sulk before you hear Osamu shuffling his feet. He already changed his shirt and he decides to take pity on you. He reaches over and opens it for you.

“We’re going to buy onigiri somewhere,” he yawns, “I’m hungry too.” 

You grin at him in gratitude and take several of them as he returns to change the rest of his clothes. You munch on your snack happily, waiting for them to finish taking on their clothes. They can’t do anything quietly, of course. 

“You two are always hungry, Samu,” Atsu points up, “And you call me a child.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“You are a volleyball obsessed child.” 

Osamu nods. 

“A stupid child.”

“A child.” 

“At least insult me properly, Rin-kun!” 

You giggle happily at that and Atsu’s sullen expression only makes you giddier. You slowly stand up, the package of biscuits still in your hand, as you stretch your arms lazily. Your friends look ready, though there is still sweat visible on their skin. They didn’t take showers. Disgusting. You wince as Atsu throws his arm around your waist, smirking. Groaning, you swat it away with a hiss, causing him to chuckle. Osamu kicks him at that. Rin sighs. 

“Good job,” the voice of Bleached Head stops the argument from brewing. You turn around, seeing him and the second teacher, the timid looking one just next to, observing all of you, “Thanks for helping us out. You were good, you - hm - “

“You don’t even know what our names are, don’t you, old man?” Atsu shakes his head, faking a disappointment as he rests one of his hands on his waist while his second one goes to his chin, “Shame, coach _Ukai._ ” 

How does he even know that? Is it his hair? It’s his hair. It’s full of secrets. But wait. If it’s hair, then you should know those secrets as well. You dyed that motherfucker! 

“You didn’t introduce yourself, you damn brats!” Bleached Head, Ukami, crosses his hands across his chest, “Your skills are not bad, but your characters are rotten.” 

What. Did. You. Just. Hear. _Did someone insult your previous childhood friends before you?_ It doesn’t mean shit how much you can complain about them. People who know shit should just shut the fuck up. 

“Fuck,” Osa whispers. You ignore it. 

You clench your fist, crunching your pack of biscuits. Anger, your old friend, came to speak with you again. You throw your snack into your pocket, as you skip closer to him. Standing on the balls on your feet, you place your hands behind your back, clapping them to not throw them into his fucking face. 

“The fuck? You want to fight me, bastard?” you ask him, smiling adorably, “Think I will not take you up, huh, just because you are elderly? I don’t discriminate. Talk shit about my friends one more fucking time and I will - “

Your mouth is hastily covered by someone’s hand. Osamu tucks you a step behind and you try to bite his palm, but he is relentless and knows your tricks well. He smiles at you fondly, as he takes his hand away.

You growl, but don’t say anything further, instead deciding to imitate Shinsuke’s glare of death and frozen wastelands into Bleach Head. To his credit, he looks a bit scared. Good. He is god damn right, he should be scared of you. The only thing that protects him is SamSam’s hold over your shoulder and you know it’s not something that can be fixed easily. 

“That’s because our fame proceeds us,” Atsumu interjects slowly, taking attention away from you, “Best twins in the volleyball, they call us.” 

“Why are you talking as if there are a lot of twins in volleyball?” Osamu yawns and you use that moment to free yourself from his hold. He grimaces but doesn’t move to stop you as he doesn’t notice any violent moves. 

See? Easily. He loves you way too much. 

“Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, sons of the Miya family from Kobe slash Amagasaki,” you introduce them, drawling your words, “Go ahead, tell something unkind about my childhood friends. Do you think I won’t crush you because there are witnesses nearby? Do you think your age will protect you? Do you even think - “ 

“Yes, I think he understands, sunshine,” Atsumu interrupts, patting your head gently before he points with his thumb at RinRin, “Suna Rintarou from - You are not from Hyogo, aren’t you, Rin-kun?”

“That’s racist,” he narrows his eyes, “I’m from Nagoya, please, don’t stalk me.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Cthulhu knows I’m way too lazy to do that,” you salute with two of your fingers, “Just don’t ask me to not Facebook stalk you, Rin-chan. That’s what girls do, yo.” 

“Rin-chan?” he frowns, before smirking, bumping his shoulder into Atsumu’s, “That’s disgusting. Say it again.” 

“I’m going to commit homicide,” Tsu growls, shoving the black-haired one’s aggressively, “Sunshine, don’t call him that ever. He is way too smug about it.” 

But you want to see him commit homicide - wait, what’s happening. He is promptly ignored as the quaking teacher bows before all of you all again. You wrinkle your nose, a little bit uncomfortable about this sudden respect after Ukami called them rotten. 

You will show him rotten. Rotten bottom of the hell, that’s it. 

“Excuse me,” he says, his tone perfectly polite, “From what school are you?”

You wrinkle your nose, not expecting the question. Should you lie? You should totally lie. 

“Hell High,” you say cautiously, “We are taught by Beelzebub himself. He is our coach, you understand, which is why nobody wants to play with us,” you nod slightly, not wanting to cause yourself to whimper, but still very much happy about what you said. At least you are happy until you see the incredulous stares of Curly and Bleach, “What?!” 

“Inarizaki High,” Osamu responds instead. You puff your cheeks at that. You know what you are doing, damn it. 

“Oh, right, I heard about you,” he smiles way too innocently for an adult, “I tried to arrange a match with you when I heard about your visit to Miyagi.” 

You tilt your head. Kurosu didn’t mention any schools and Karasuno wasn’t in your notes, which meant 

“Did you beg again, Takeda-sensei?” Daichi interjects. Curly chuckles at that awkwardly, rubbing his head in shame. You arch your eyebrow. _What does he mean again_? 

Wait. You remember now. Kurosu said someone was even begging him for the match. That’s - that’s little embarrassing you suppose. You should probably feel ashamed. You don’t so you avert your gaze, very pointily. He shouldn’t know that he was the reason for your amusement some days ago. 

“That was you?” menace number two grins mockingly, “Kurosu-sensei was so happy about that, you know, even if he refused.”

“Nobody wants to play with us,” Osamu nods.

“I wonder why,” Bleach Head whispers, doing his best not to look at you. 

At that, twins simultaneously tilt their heads innocently, taking the masks of little cherubins. You sneak behind them and stand on the tips of your feet, trying to reach over to give to Atsu a little devil’s horns with your fingers. You are too short, damn it. 

You frown, unsatisfied, but before you can complain about how much you hate your life, you feel somebody patting your shoulder lightly. You blink as you turn to see Rin just next to you, doing the exact thing you planned. He is successful, of course, being so much taller than you. 

You stiff evil giggle, trying to be sneaky. Not that you need to. Osamu catches the two in the act with the corner of his and shrugs. That’s why he is the best. 

“Inarizaki, huh,” Ukami wonders loudly, very pointily avoiding looking at you, which is not hard, to be honest, as you stand behind twins. Good. You are writing his name very carefully on your list. See you in five years, old man, “That’s a powerhouse school. What do you think about Karasuno’s team?” 

Twins exchange a gaze. Rin sighs, stopping harassing Atsumu and stepping forward. You follow him, leaning a little bit behind Osa. He is your cover fire if any of them got any gun or something. 

“Your middle blockers suck,” he says blandly without any remorse, causing a gasp to be heard, “And I’m not even talking about an elementary kid, who doesn’t even try to read block. That second one is even worse. Bitch, I want to die, and yet I move with more life.” 

“Hey, don’t talk like that about Tsukki!” 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” 

You nearly shiver at his voice. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You are pathetic, but you just can’t - without thinking much, you grasp the hem of your friend’s jacket, trying to find solace in his warmth. Osa takes your hand without any questions. 

Immediately, you feel a little bit better, a little bit lighter. He takes the heaviness out of your heart, leaving only warmth behind. You smile at your intervened fingers, squeezing his hand. He returns the gesture and your heart leaps out in joy.

Safer. You are so much safer with him and Atsu, and even Rin - 

“Your receives suck,” Tsu adds with mocking cheerfulness, “I know my serves are good, but I didn’t even _try_. Do you think you will be able to defeat Wakatoshi - kun like that?” he smacks his lips before his eyes rest on Blueberry Cupcake, “And you, Tobio - kun. You are a good setter, but how should I say it? I would call you a diamond in the rough. You look like you are afraid to set.” 

Your shoulders perch at that. Afraid to set? You shift your attention to Kageyama and have to grimace as he refuses to meet anyone’s gaze. For a moment you think about kicking Atsu in the calf, but think better of that. He only taunts Cupcake because he doesn’t know how to flirt like a normal human being. Right. You should let him know, like a good friend, that if he doesn’t stop, he will lose his chance forever. 

“Atsu - chan,” you whisper as quietly as you can. He turns to you and you can easily imagine a question mark flowing just in front of his head, “Do you want to date Blueberry Cupcake?”

There is bewilderment in his golden-like eyes, of course, the shock and surprise you know very well. _Did he think he is so smooth?,_ you ask yourself, _Oh no, no, no, [Name] can read you so easily, Atsu-chan._

You feel a smile tugging on your lips, but you can’t smile, because. Because. Because. _Because_ your heart stops beating. The face he pulls is the one you never saw before. It’s not a broken expression of defeat. It’s not broken, not per se, but you hate it, you hate it so much. It feels like _heartache_. You - you suddenly don’t like it. What can you do to make it better? What will make this hurt disappear? Such agony looks wrong on him. Your friend, your arrogant TsuTsu, shouldn’t ever look like that. He mustn’t look like that. 

You are not letting him look like that. 

“W-what?” he stutters, his voice dry and so, so miserable you reach to him without further thought. Osa follows you, seeing that something is wrong. He pats his twin shoulder, hesitantly. 

That’s what's alarming. Sam doesn’t know what is wrong with him as well? You two share a glance, before you practically launch yourself at him, embracing his waist. 

“Atsu-chan, are you okay?” you ask, voice still soft, “I thought I should let you know, because if you like him, then - “

He doesn’t react and you stumble on your words, ready to start rambling. You don’t know what to do. You reach over to gently cup his cheek in your hand and he flinches. _He flinches at your touch._

You instantly take a step back, feeling the dread taking hold over all of your body. He flinched at you. He flinched at you.

_(He hates you. He hates you, just like your brother did. He hates you just like all of them did, just like you deserve, you cannot be loved, not even by them, he hates you, he hates you, he hates, he hates you - )_

“Tsumu?” Osamu’s voice is sharp as he throws an arm over him, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you having some sort of attack? Fuck - “ 

“Wait,” Ukami suddenly says, the concern easily to discern in his tone, “What’s wrong, should we call the ambulance? Does he has a panic attack or - “

Panic attack? You are getting one just thinking over it. Atsumu cannot get a panic attack, he cannot, he simply cannot -

“Why should he want to date someone else when he is madly in love with you?”

Huh? The voice of Suna comes out soothing, even though his words are so hard to comprehend. You blink rapidly, looking back at Rin. You reiterate his words slowly in your head. _Madly in love with you_. _Madly in love with you._ That - that - that actually makes you blush as if you were a stupid teenage girl. As if you didn’t hear things like it before, way too many times. 

_Why should he want to date someone else when he is madly in love with you?_

Atsumu loves you, that’s the fact, but he is not in love with you. He is not madly in love with you, he is your friend, your best friend, just like Osamu. 

“But he had a girlfriend before?” your voice comes so unsurely you feel ashamed. You look at Atsu, and then at Rin, not knowing who should you focus on. On Tsu, definitely on Tsu, because he is going through some ordeal, you have to help him, but Rin’s words, Rin’s words are so stupid - 

“S-shut the hell up, Rin!” 

_Atsu-chan!_

His voice comes out strained and pained, but he is talking, he is talking to you. You want to kiss him on the cheek, you want to hold his hand, you want to hug him, but you fight it off. He flinched, he flinched, he flinched before at you - 

“Osa-chan?” your question comes out so desperately you feel bad for yourself, but you don’t know what to do, Tsu just flinched and you don’t know what to do if he hates you. 

“I don’t know shit, honey,” he says before he elbows his twin who was glaring at Suna meanwhile, “The fuck, Tsumu? You made [Name] worry. And what’s with you frowning at her? Do I have to beat your stupid ass again?” 

“You couldn’t even if you wanted!” 

Ukami sighs heavily, hiding his head in the palm of his hand. You ignore him. You ignore every one of them because they don’t matter, not truly. Only Atsu and Osa matter. Only Rin and Blueberry matter. The rest of them can fuck off. 

You take a step forward, reaching over to tug at his shirt. What a power he has over you - if he flinches again, you will be unmade, you will break, you will shatter.

He doesn’t. He takes one look in your direction, before he takes you into his arms, scoping you up. You instantly intervene your hands behind his neck, as you find yourself picked over. 

“Does it mean I was wrong? But then why are you so hard on him?” you whisper into his neck, “What did I wrong? Why did I make you hurt? I never - I never wanted it,” you hold in a sob, “Is that because you like their manager? Do you miss your former girlfriend, nee, Atsu-chan?” 

You don’t see his face. Maybe it’s better that way. You will not see his face like that. 

“It’s not your fault, sunshine,” your heart soars when he calls you that. It means you didn’t fuck up totally, it means he still loves you, “It’s never your fault, don’t even think that for a second - “

“IN LOVE WITH KIYOKO-SAN?!” 

You grimace, the voice making you shiver from sheer loudness. You turn around to see Tanaka, screaming as one of his teammates - Kakashi 2 - tries to stop him. He can’t. The force of Tanaka’s friendship too much. 

“No! Stop trying to matchmake me!” Atsumu yells instantly back, “As if I was interested in some pig!” 

“She is not a pig. She is so pretty,” you murmur, but it seems everybody can hear you anyway, “So much prettier than your previous girlfriend.”

“Don’t you dare call her a pig, blondie! Our Kiyoko-san is beautiful!” Tanaka nods solemnly, not being able to read the mood, not knowing “She is the most beautiful person in the world!” 

Oh. Oh no. Very slowly you look up.

“[Name] is prettier.” 

Oh. Oh no. He heard it. The one person who never should, the one who is too much stubborn to let it go. Osamu Miya. You bring your scared eyes to Atsumu and he instantly sets you down, his face nervous. 

Maybe at least Tanaka will be much wiser. He seemed cool enough when you meet him earlier, there is no way he is going to fight bloodthirsty Osamu Miya. That Osamu Miya who was sending shivers down people’s spine even after ten years since the three of you were official kings and queen of the playground. 

“What. Hey, pretty boy, I think I misheard you. Did you just say that Kiyoko-san is not the prettiest?” 

He is not. 

“I did, fucker. If you can’t see how much more attractive my childhood friend is, then you are blind and have shitty taste. Maybe instead of Tsumu going to the trash heap, you should be one to go. Every fucking trash there would be alluring to you.” 

“Oy, oy, oy, you want me to rearrange your face, you damn elite?!” 

You look at them with wonder. Why is nobody reacting? They just look as they push insult after insult at each other. Osamu snorts, his voice so dismissive you feel he is just a different person. 

“Rearrange your tastes. They are so shitty,” the silver-haired twin mocks him, coming straight out of Atsumu’s school of being unreasonable. To your horror, he even points at you. He points at you! “Look at her when you still have eyes to do that. She is so adorable.” 

You fluster at that, feeling dozens of gazes upon your silhouette. 

“Of course, [Name] is cute! But Kiyoko-san - I can’t, I’m sorry, [Name]-chan, Kiyoko-san is the prettiest for me!” 

“I don’t care, really,” you whisper into Atsu’s shirt, “Can we just go, maybe, pretty please?” 

“I do,” Osamu speaks gently to you, before making his voice more deadly than razor’s edge as he continues to speak “How dare you to say it to her face? What is your motherfucking problem?”

“My problem?! You see our Kiyoko-san and can’t even appreciate how beautiful she is! What’s wrong with you Kansai boys?!” 

Rin fake-gasps, "That’s racist. I’m from Nagoya.” 

It would be nice if Osamu or Tanaka would notice him. They don’t. Younger of the Miya twins unclenches his fists, but you are not naive enough to believe he calms down. He stretches the fingers of his hand very slowly before he voices his thoughts.

And damn, is his tone _dark._

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Fuck. You look to the ceiling. One crisis after another. 

“Wait, wait, wait, Samu!” 

“Tanaka!”

Rin raises his phone as he films the ensuing fight. You feel like crying. That’s - that’s the stupidest to reason to fight, ever! You - you - you are frustrated! You are going to fight too! Maybe you will ever gouge somebody’s eyes out with your nails! 

* * *

You didn’t gouge anyone’s eyes out. Atsumu didn’t let you. To be honest, he didn’t even let feral Osamu kick Tanaka’s face off. Not that you didn’t like Tanaka, but you really would want to at least see the violence.

At least he was not flinching when he was holding you back. 

Your new mama, AtsuAtsu, somehow was able to grip both you and Osamu while Karasuno tried to calm down the raging Tanaka. He really tried to avenge the girl’s honor. Not that pretty girl cared much more than you. She looked mostly embarrassed just like you. 

You felt for her - it seems Tanaka is not her friend like Osa is to you. He is, well, as Rin commented, he is her _simp_. 

“So, what did we learn today, children?” Bleach Head looks at pouting boys before him. Both OsaOsa and Tanaka don’t look apologetic or ashamed at all. You are honestly surprised somebody expected them to be. 

“That people in Miyagi don’t have a fucking taste.” 

“That people from Hyogo can’t see how wonderful Kiyoko-san is.” 

They say those things at the same time, without any shame whatsoever. You roll your eyes as they glare at each other, ready to fight even now, after fifteen minutes of trying to placate them. Stubborn bastards.

“My head hurts,” Ukami sighs, resembling your two coaches way too much at that moment. He is just do done with your bullshit, isn’t he? "Just - just go away.” 

Yes, he is. You titter happily at that. He still refuses to meet your eyes which makes your fit of happiness even worse. On the other hand, Atsu nods, taking hold of your hand and Osamu’s shirt. He drags two of you out, not looking back and not waiting for Rin to follow.

Rin waddles after you, of course, happily playing with his phone. 

“I hate this freaking place,” Atsumu comments tiredly, not even waiting to be out of the grounds. He doesn’t care about anybody overhearing you, “Full of scrubs and pigs, and idiots. Why did we go here anyway?” 

He grimaces, looking at the dark sky above you. It’s very late, that’s true. Way too late. You are pretty sure you are going to be in trouble if somebody noticed that you are gone. Shinsuke is going to scold you so much. At least there are no messages on your phone. He would call first, right? 

“The absolute worst,” Osa agrees, still glaring into the place where Tanaka was supposed to be moments ago, “[Name], you are the most beautiful person on this planet.” 

Yeah, you didn’t need any reassurance about that. You know it’s not true. Osamu is way too biased to be trusted. You do your best to smile at him anyway, trying to comfort him just a bit with your smile. 

“I know it,” Atsu snorts at him, finally releasing both of you. He slows down, reaching over to ruffle his twin’s hair, “You know it. Everyone who counts knows it. You shouldn’t let your temper off, Samu.” 

Osamu grimaces at that. Is he really so upset about somebody not agreeing with him? You bite down on your lip, not knowing what exactly should you say to him. You don’t care about being called the most beautiful. 

To be honest, it’s embarrassing. You only let Osamu call you that all the time because, well, it makes him feel better, calmer. It helps him with the guilt you caused him to feel. You don’t want to be complimented by strangers, though. It’s okay with Atsu or Osa, but others? Taking the praise from not-so-close friends, like Rin or Shinsuke, is already hard enough. You don’t need more people calling you pretty or something. 

“You alright, OsaOsa?” you ask him, fidgeting, “You shouldn’t fight because of something like that. That’s a lame reason. Lame, lame, lame,” you smile at him as you intone his words, “Really, I don’t want to see your hurt, _pretty boy_.” 

You giggle at that stupidly. Pretty boy, Tanaka called him. Pretty girl, Rin called you. Joined at the hip, you both even have to possess the same nicknames. Huh. That makes Atsu Pretty Boy as well, doesn’t it? 

“You are a girl worth fighting for,” he shrugs. You giggle again, recognizing the words without trouble. _Mulan_. What a cheesy, beautiful bastard. 

A girl worth fighting for. A person worth fighting for. It makes you think of Blueberry Cupcake - Wait, Blueberry. Fuck. You stop in the middle of the step. You cannot go back to the hotel just yet. Damn, damn, damn, how could you forget about it? 

You cannot go. You have something very important to do. The very reason you came here in the first place! You all have things to talk about, and you probably should stay with them, but - 

You hurt one of your friends already. You will not harm another maybe-friend. 

“I have to talk with Blueberry without any of you,” you tell them, stopping them in their tracks with your gentle tone alone, “Wait for me next to the gate, losers.” 

“No way.” 

Atsumu sounds way too forceful so you kick him in the calf. He yells out, not expecting it. Drama queen. You snort, throwing your hair out of your shoulder and looking at the rest of them, waiting for Rin or Osamu to say something. 

They both stay silent. 

Rin scrutinizes you. You feel as if he is searching for something in your demeanor, but you have no idea what, so you stiffen a bit, trying to be as impassive as you can be. It takes a few seconds, but he nods curtly. No one moves, though. Not Osa, not Rin, not Atsu. Oh, how much you hate them. Overprotective fools. You roll your eyes and point with your hand on the horizon. 

“Go, go,” you scowl at your friends, “Give me a minute, damn it. We just talked about it yesterday, you bastards. Don’t you trust me?” 

“We do - “

“We are going to be just at the gate,” Osamu interjects, reaching to you and fondly touching your cheek with his thumb, “If he tries anything, _scream_. Even if it to help you hide a body, my most charming girl.” 

You beam up at that. He understands what you need, your guardian angel. You are not a damsel in distress, damn it. You are Miss Murder, the Vixen (you can’t believe you feel proud of this nickname now), you don’t need anybody to protect you most of the time. As long as they are not Puffy, that is. You will take protection against Puffy anytime. 

You nod seriously and watch them leave reluctantly, Atsumu pouting like the child, Rin yawning, and Osamu looking grave. Idiots. Loveable idiots. Sighing, you stretch your hands, waiting for Kageyama. It takes him a moment to arrive. You nearly can hear Atsumu complaining about how he makes you wait, but you remain patient, leaning onto the wall of the building. 

It’s cold. It’s always cold in Miyagi it seems. Or maybe it’s because of the night? You rub your palms together and blow your breath at it. How nice would it be to have something like a scarf, you wonder to yourself, feeling bitter. You didn’t take anything like that with you, of course, you didn’t. It’s April, nearly May, why is so, so fucking cold? 

“Date - san.” 

You lift yourself and meet the blue eyes of Kageyama. He instantly averts his gaze, his cheeks flushed. 

“Sorry about the mess,” you find yourself saying and waving your hand, “Hope you didn’t get into any trouble because of us.” 

“I didn’t,” he answers shortly, his voice confident. You peer at him and he instantly deflects, fidgeting with his hands behind his back, “I - I have something else to talk about. T-thank you for waiting.” 

Huh. Seems he doesn’t want to talk about it. Fine then. 

You straighten your back and skip closer to him, happily joining him just beside the stairs. He fidgets as you close the distance between the two of you. There is something awkward about his posture. He holds his hands behind his back, trying to hide something. 

Is that a murder weapon? He is going to ask you to hide the body. You sniff, feeling strangely emotional at this gesture of trust. You will not sell him to the cops. If he killed one of his oppressors - maybe even Moon Tower, Satan dearest, you hope it’s Moon Tower - you are in. 

“H - here, for you,” he stutters, sounding as if he has trouble voicing those words, and shoves something abruptly into your hands. 

You blink as you take it without any hesitation, your body reacting practically on its’ own. It’s smooth in your hands, and fragile, and even a little bit damp. A small noise leaves your mouth as you feel it, not being able to comprehend what’s happening. 

It’s not a murder weapon. 

“My sister,” his voice comes out rushed as if he just wants to get it out of his way, confusing you even further, “She said the best way to apologize to a g - girl is to give her flowers.”

You rather feel him take a step back than see, your eyes too focused on the gift in your hands. Flowers. _Flowers_. That’s not what you expected at all. Can you even kill someone with a flower if it’s not poisonous? 

Wait. His sister. Apology. Flowers. Your nose crinkles, as you understand what is happening right now. He is apologizing yet _again_. Your lips curl into a pout. You bring your eyes up, just to see him letting out a nervous breath. He finally meets your eyes.

They are so blue. Should a Japanese person be even allowed to have such beautiful, blue eyes? They are like cream from blueberry cupcakes, holding your glossed gaze with anticipation. You have to say something, but you can’t find words, your mouth suddenly so dry. 

“It’s okay if - if you don’t want them.”

He exhales, clutching his fist together, looking nervous. 

It’s not okay, you want to say, It’s not okay, Kageyama. He bows his head a little, avoiding your gaze again. You bite down on your lip, finally looking at the flowers he just _gave_ you. 

Your first impression is that they are beautiful. Blue, white and pink little flowers bloomed into balls held together by delicate tissue paper and bow. You lean forward, trying to catch a scent, any sort of fragrance, and find none. 

Hydrangeas, you declare in your mind, You just got a bouquet of hydrangeas. How did Kageyama get hydrangeas in April? It had to be so pricey. Your heart skips a beat as you take in all of his gesture meaning. 

You don’t know the flowers well. You have a little vendetta going in for them, to be honest. You blame your brother. Your mother loved - probably still does - Ikebana and Hanakotoba. She tried to make you learn it, just like your grandmother made her. She even tried to get you interested in telling you how she and your father met.

It was supposedly super romantic: she was just beginning her music career, while your father was already famous. They called him a genius conductor, a brilliant coming star. He was handsome and talented, according to your mother.

“What could I offer to him what didn’t thousand of girls didn’t already?” you remember her saying as she took your _Naruto’s_ volume away, “A bouquet, [Nickname]. The one I composed myself. You should try it.” 

“Ninjas don’t need flowers, mama!” 

Your mother sighed deeply disappointed but gave your manga away. As long as you won contests and looked pretty she didn’t care. It doesn’t mean you don’t like flowers. You just refuse to learn to read, know, and care for them. You can care for the gesture, though. You care for the person giving them to you. 

It makes you think a little about your childhood. Osamu used to give you flowers all the time since you were little. You still remember the first time he gifted you one: his hands were dirty, his lip swollen from the fight, but the pink rose in his hands was bright. He has stolen it from his neighbor’s garden. You were _mesmerized_. You were five. He was six. Your friendship just started, but Osamu devoted so much of his life to you already. You loved his present, you loved it so much. 

His little gifts continued through the years. Roses and tulips, stolen from neighbors’ gardens or his grandmother. It came to an abrupt stop in middle school. To be honest, you were surprised it took so long. 

Flowers were something for you and Osamu. Atsumu got in your space like he always did. 

His reasons had to be stupid, so you didn’t question them. One day, he just spent his whole allowance to buy you a bouquet of red and white roses. Osa took it as a challenge. They both started to compete on who can give you better flowers. How did they indicate which flower was better anyway? You have no idea, but their little circus was becoming exhausting. So, you decided enough was enough. 

Their little fight over gifting you lasted until _you_ bought flowers for _them_. It was the middle of the summer, so you simply presented them with sunflowers. In your memories, they both reacted by becoming crying, blushing messes who just couldn’t stop hugging you. They behaved as if you gifted them the world. _Idiots._

This bouquet is different. 

He is apologizing. He even asked someone else for help. You should be irritated, because he is so thoughtful, even though he shouldn’t be. That’s - that’s _endearing_. Your knees are so weak you feel you will keel over. If you were a heroine from an old novel, you would probably be swooning right now. 

You are not, thanks gods. Swooning has to be one of the most embarrassing things ever. 

Gently, you move your hand to caress the petal of the flower. Hydrangea, you repeat in your mind. You are an awful person. You are not so fond of your country’s history, be it its gods or legends, mythology, history. You know the things you need for school. You love some characters or events, but you are not exactly fond of them as a whole. 

But you know about hydrangeas. The one who told you about them was not your mother, but your old archnemesis, your crush, so you can recall it without any trouble. 

There is a legend, a tale in Japan, about hydrangeas. Like every legend, it’s probably not an entire truth. Like every legend, it’s probably not an entire lie. An emperor, it says, gave hydrangea in apology to his neglected love. 

He is not an emperor.

You are not his neglected love.

And yet, the sentiment stands. He cares. He cares enough to go out of his way, again and again. You don’t know if he chose those flowers, remembering you talking about royalty, of kings, princesses, and emperors. You don’t know if he would know about your fondness for history. 

You melt a little inside, your poor nuclear reactor of the hearing, the warmth of the gesture leaving you speechless. History. An emperor. Could you ask for a more thoughtful gift? They are perfect. 

Blue, white, pink. They are blue like blueberry cupcakes, like his beautiful eyes. They are pink like strawberry milk he gave you, like his blushing cheeks. They are white like yogurt, just like the skin on his fingers. Blue, pink and white. 

“They are wonderful. Thank you, Tobio.” 

You beam at him. 

* * *

This chapter alternative title is "Over 10k of pain, or why do I hate myself" :)))) Couldn't stop writing, but at least we have everything I wanted. I feel so drained though, hope you enjoy it. We are coming closer and closer to leaving Miyagi and finally coming to Tokyo... But first, drama, angst, stupidity, and simp wars. Simp wars have begun! Bwahahahaha.

About hydrangeas: In Europe, those flowers were seen as a symbol of arrogance. I felt it fit Tobio too well...

Hope you enjoyed it! Have a good day.


	33. In which it’s hard to let go (but it’s easy to commit a murder).

Should people be so red? 

They probably shouldn’t. 

You tilt your head gently as you gaze at Blueberry Cupcake. You don’t think you have ever seen somebody so flustered in your life before. Maybe he has drunk something before coming down to talk with you? Is that an alcohol flush reaction? Are you looking at your future? If so, you refuse to ever drink anything. 

So. So red. Not that he is not as adorable as a little bunny, of course. It’s just, you would prefer to not be looking so flushed next to Atsu. You can already hear his teasing, little fucker. You seriously doubt you will be able to drink something without him as well.

_Oh, [Name], you are too dumb to drink alone. Let your older, dependable friend take care of you. Look at yourself, you are already tipsy, don’t drink anymore. What do you mean you want more? No, we’re going home, sunshine._

Truly, you are cursed to ever decide to go kick him out of that damn swing. Osamu at least would decide to drink with you. 

“You shouldn’t drink, Cupcake,” you tell him earnestly when he continues to be quiet. You never work well with silence. It’s too awkward, fuck, why is he not talking back? You fidget on your feet nervously, starting to ramble, “Really, we are underage. What sort of bad example are you showing me? I’m very impressionable, you know. Atsu - chan claims that I only started cursing after Osa.” 

It’s a lie, of course, but your Blueberry Cupcake doesn’t have to know that. Osamu started cursing after you, but some things will never be comprehended by Atsumu Miya. 

Kageyama becomes even redder just when you thought it was impossible. His eyes are transfixed at you, following your every move, as in trance. He is still not answering. You seriously start to worry about his health. Is that how drunk people behave?

Who knows. Not you. Well, what are you supposed to do now? It’s - it’s - you don’t like it. Your hand that just grasped the petals of hydrangeas moves, reaching over to strands of your hair. You twirl it around your finger, nervously waiting for any sort of sign he is coherent. 

The sign doesn’t arrive. You fight back the groan. What’s a girl to do when her drunk Blueberry Cupcake behaves like that? Google cannot help you now. Your eyes flicker around, looking for any sort of assistance and they finally stop at the doors just at the upper level of the building. 

The doors of one of the rooms at the upper level are just a little bit open, enough that you can distinguish an eye peeking at you. Suspiciously, it disappears the moment you notice it. You wrinkle your nose, the smile disappearing from your face. What sort of spy is that? Not KGB for sure. Is that Abwehr? MI6? If so, it’s _pathetic_. They can do so much better. 

You can do so _much better_ and you don’t belong to any of those organizations, which means they should recruit you. But yeah, there is some kind of strange phenomenon is happening at Karasuno High. You don’t like it. You shift your attention back to Blueberry Cupcake. 

You ponder silently. Is this a moment where you are supposed to call for twins? The answer is probably yes. The thing is. 

Well. 

You don’t think that yelling for SamSam and the rest is a good idea. Atsu’s face after you asked him about Kageyama is a haunting sigh you would rather not experience ever again, so it’s likely it will return in your dreams. Not to even comment about Osamu’s temper. He is agitated in Sendai. It’s better not to tickle a sleeping dragon. 

If only Suna could come to your rescue alone. Rin’s cool. Wow, you can’t believe for once Mr. Pretty Girl didn’t say anything stupid. But yelling only for him will not help you, because there is no way twins will stands behind. 

You also sense Blueberry doesn’t like twins very much. Which sucks. A lot. All of them would be pretty good friends. Cthulhu knows all of these poor, awkward people need friends. 

So. That leaves you with two options. 

One: Go to the eye, [Name]. Go talk to the eye. Yeah, even you are not so stupid. Edgar Allan Poe taught you that eyes are evil. Also, that some killers are super stupid. Like, hiding body under the floor? It will smell so bad, dude, don’t do that, you will be caught quicker than you can say _parabola._

Option number two: talking. Technically, it’s easier. In theory, it’s easier. In practice, not so much. Not for you. You are just not sure what are you supposed to say. You bite down on your lip, just deciding to go with what feels right. 

“Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Saviour, the Volleyball?” 

Probably not that. Well, way too late. You lift your head shyly at him and to your surprise, he seems to be much more coherent now.

Tobio’s head snaps at your voice, which is strange, okay, because he completely ignored you earlier. Is he getting sobber? You glance at him and - Woah. His blue eyes are suddenly on you. A shiver runs through your spine, making you flush a bit. 

“Volleyball?” he asks, cocking his head at you. You want to roll your eyes so hard and it’s so painful to not do it. 

The word _volleyball_ works at him as it does at Atsu. You swear they would such a good couple, it’s a pain you can never mention it aloud. At least you are safe to call them out of it in your mind. Clowns. Dorks. Nerds. Losers. 

“You okay, Blueberry?” you try, making your voice as soft as you can, “You really should stop drinking. Did Moon Tower spike your drink? Do you want me to make him eat his glasses?” 

You grin a little at that, trying to cheer him up. Dreadfully, he still is quiet, just evaluating you with his gaze as if you were an alien. You are not, thank you very much, aliens suck if they ever exist in the same galaxy as you. 

Your heartbeat speeds up. It was volleyball, right? You should never speak this word ever again. You somehow made him angry by making fun of it and now he wants you to apologize. Okay, you can say sorry, but - 

He has to stop looking like you like that, damn it! It makes you way too anxious, when he is silent and - argh! You want to tear your hair out of your damn head! 

“What did you call me?” 

He moves lips, words coming slowly, making your beat faster. You cock your head, meeting his grave gaze. Your smile breaks a bit. You free the strands of your hair from your finger, dropping your hand go. 

_What did you call him?_

You try to meet his gaze, but you are not able to. His blue eyes look so intense that you know you just did something wrong. He didn’t ever stutter, leaving the easily embarrassed boy you know behind. 

What the fuck did you do? 

You called him by his name, you are pretty damn sure. You called him by his name without his permission, nothing big, right? Wait. No. It’s big. You called him by his name without his permission. Fuckity fuck. Forget calling him Blueberry Cupcake, you called him by his name. That’s - that’s at least level two friendship! 

You nearly drop your flowers as the wave of embarrassment crashes over you. Your heart, melted nuclear reactor, explodes, leaving only blocks of graphite and radioactivity behind. You are literal Chernobyl. 

Or maybe, more truthfully, you are the Red Forest that the Chernobyl disaster left behind. Just like those poor pines, you are going to fucking die. You hope somebody will pity you enough to bury you. 

“I’m sorry!” you hastily yell out, nearly throwing hydrangeas into the air from sheer panic, “It just happened, K-Kageyama-san! Please, forgive me, I didn’t want to make fun of you, I just thought!” 

That’s your biggest problem. You thought. You shouldn’t think! Leave the thinking to people who know their shit. Not to you, who has a problem going to the convenience shop alone! You blink away the tears from your eyes, trying to calm down. 

You can’t. You feel your muscles trembling and it’s not because of cold, even if you feel freezing. He has to hate you now. Where can you - where can you hide? Your hands are busy! Are you supposed to bury your head in flowers?! 

SamSam said to scream and you are just thinking of doing so. You curl your lip, looking away in panic, but before you can squeal the silver-haired twin’s name, Kageyama’s voice stops you. 

“I don’t mind!”

You turn around, not caring for the way it makes your neck howl in pain. The furious blush returns to his face, but he doesn’t avert his gaze, looking straight at you. Baffled, you shape your lips in little _o_. 

“You don’t?” you repeat, completely dumbfounded. Your eyes narrow suddenly, as the thought comes through your mind, “You are not saying it to make me feel better, right?” 

“No,” he hastily shakes his head. He bites down on his lip as if he is trying to stop the next words from coming from his mouth, “I-I just want to hear it again. P-Please, call me by my name.” 

Huh?

_Huh?!_

What the fuck. 

That’s a strange request. Why would he - is that a kink - you don’t understand - you should never trust tall, handsome boys with beautiful eyes, look where you ended - what are - you - supposed to - 

Wait.

It makes a sad kind of sense if you think about it. Carrot Cake, the one person he was constantly with, calls him by the last name. You can’t even have an illusion of what their relationship is like, but he is somewhat his friend, right? And yet. You are also pretty damn sure everybody in his team does it as well.

_Kageyama, Kageyama, Kageyama._

_The King of the Court._

Like Moon Tower. You hate him. You hate him so much. You really should do something mean and petty to him. Maybe follow him home and break his favorite cup or tear all tissues in the hands and leave them all over the floor. 

Even you are called constantly something sweet and endearing. Even you are called by your name. Even you. How is that possible that no one calls him by his name? It’s sad. It’s heartbreaking. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong and you want nothing more than embrace him. 

Instead, you decide to reach to Cupcake’s side, gently grasping his finger with two of your own. It’s his pinky, the supposed littlest one. It is still so much bigger than your ring finger. You can’t ever blame his athlete’s status for that. You are just so tiny next to him. 

Or next to anyone, to be honest. 

How are you supposed to protect all those dorks when you are so short? Nails, probably. And high heels. Maybe gods of the universe decided to make you so much smaller to make things fair. What sort of power would you have if you were just those three centimeters taller? Too much power, that’s the answer. 

You twist your lips in a smile. He blushes once more, his eyes transfixed on your interlaced fingers, but he doesn’t move away. 

“Tobio,” you obey his plea, repeating his name gently. His blush intensified, but somehow, he doesn’t look uncomfortable. Rather than that, he seems pleased. You titter lightly, your face nearly sparkling, “It’s only fair that you should call me [Name]. We are friends now, right?” 

TobiTobi or ObiObi, you say in your mind. Maybe not now, though, taking into consideration how red he becomes by you simply saying his name. You can ease him into friendship until he becomes more comfortable. 

He twists his lips hesitantly, giving you a crooked smile. He doesn’t look like a king at all. Some people can’t choose good nicknames for others. Not like you. Your nicknames are always perfect. 

“Kageyama, that bastard.” 

Your soft giggle is interrupted by somebody’s voice. 

You bat your eyes in confusion. What the fuck. You share a glance with Tobio, who looks just as flabbergasted as you feel, confirming that whatever you heard was not only in your imagination. He lifts his head and peers at the door where you saw the Eye earlier. 

“Tanaka - san?” he asks. 

The door close with a loud noise. You gently cock your head. What. The. Fuck. Were you spied on? Was it the Eye? Don’t trust the Eye, just like Edgar has said, damn it. Wait. Tanaka, you know Tanaka, but what does he share with the secret service of MI6? Dear Mr. Turing, do you see this Enigma? We have to solve it again. 

You wrinkle your nose, gazing back to Blueberry. 

“Tanaka - san?” you repeat after him, asking him to explain what the fuck is happening. You know Tanaka, you remember him, but what does he have with the Eye? Is Tanaka a member of MI6? If so, he should be fired. He is awful at his job. 

“It’s our club’s room,” Kageyama tells you, his brows furrowed in wonder, “I just don’t know why would he look at us. T - They were very interested in you - Uh, I mean in f - flowers! In flowers!” 

In your flowers? Well, they are pretty, anybody with eyes and self - respect would be interested in them. You don’t like being spied on, though. The only one with a ninja license is you. 

Tanaka seemed nice at first glance. He was the one who tried to cheer you up with Noya when you were at Karasuno’s gym. You even liked him, at least until he wanted to punch your best friend in the face. No matter how kind somebody is. They are dead the moment they try to hurt Osa or Tsu. If only Atsumu didn’t stop you - 

Wait. 

There is not Atsu to protect him now. 

The glee you feel in your chest is dangerous. You hum sweetly, swinging your and Tobio’s hand as you pull him towards the stairs. There are a lot of very violent songs you could intone. You decide to go with a classic, though, as your anger starts seeping through your blood. It’s a lullaby you used to sing for twins at your sleepovers. 

Your choice is deliberate, no matter how perplexed it makes Blueberry Cupcake. It’s not a fight song, of course, it’s not. 

It’s a murder melody. You are, after all, Miss Murder. 

Kageyama’s finger twitches, but you ignore it, only leading on, where you encounter the worst enemy. You thought Washijo is the final boss, well, you were wrong. Stairs are so dumb. Who the fuck even invited them? You want just to talk to him, honestly. No ulterior motive whatsoever. Is that a knife? May perhaps. Please, speak with your lawyer for more details. 

The whole ordeal of climbing the stairs leaves you a little bit breathless. Fuck off, Forces To Be, you will not show them what sort of baby you by keeling over. No matter how much you want to. 

Stupid Blueberry doesn’t look tired in the least. Well, he is not holding a bouquet like you! You puff your cheeks, continuing onwards. The rest of the road is simple and before you can blink, you find yourself standing just before, roll drums, the door with the Eye. 

There comes the most troublesome part after those dumb stairs. You release your fingers from Cupcake’s hold - or you mean, you try to. You turn around as he continues to clutch it. He blushes instantly, but before he can take his hand away, you squeeze it a little, trying to show him it’s okay. 

You, of all people, understand the need to be close. Clingy koalas, unite under [Name]’s flag and conquer the world. You don’t mind the proximity of Tobio. It feels nice. Holding hands with someone. Being friends with someone. Wanting to protect someone. Planning a murder with someone. 

“Hello?” you say using your most fake-sweet voice, “We came to parley, dear citizens.” 

You wrinkle your nose. Nobody answers, but you hear heated whispers coming from that direction. Rude. Well, you can be ruder, you attended Miya Twins’ School of Being Jerk after all. You can’t use your hands right now? ‘Kay, that’s not a problem. 

Your smile is a little bit feral as you lift your leg and kick the door two times, knocking crudely. Kageyama nearly jumps in surprise. You can’t flash him a peace sign, so you just shot him a grin. He flushes at you and turns his head away.

Hey, modern problems require modern solutions, you can’t help it. Ignoring him for the second, you wait. The whispers stopped, but nobody answered the door. Well, then. You kick them again. 

“You are making your damsel in the distress waiting, fuckers,” you yell out to them, “Come, meet the consequences of your actions, cowards. Are you afraid of a little girl? I just want to talk and I don’t have any weapons, I swear.” 

“Date - san!” Tobio shouts out scandalized, his eyes attached to your leg. You giggle evilly. 

“I don’t have any weapon, Tobio, only hydrangeas,” you bop your head gently, still conscious about your stupid neck, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Tobio, nobody will be harmed tonight. Also, call me [Name].” 

The door opens ominously before he answers. You don’t meet the old man with the eye of a vulture, though. In front of you stands Daichi, Tanaka, and Yuu. Behind them, there is Carrot Cake. You notice Beardy too, even though he hides behind the carrot-haired boy. You also see Moon Tower and his little bitch which is not good for your heart. 

You squeeze Kageyama’s finger once more. Maybe, just maybe, you can deal with him even without twins as long as you have someone else with you. 

“You really shouldn’t let him drink alcohol,” you cut in swiftly, not wanting to give them a moment to attack you, “What did you even get him? Sake? Vodka? Beer? Nevermind, it’s not funny, I’m going to the police and we are going to sue.” 

What you get is not what you expected. 

“Kageyama did drink something?!” Daichi screams, before glaring at Tanaka and Nishinoya. Wait, why them? They are the Simp and the Sweetheart. They wouldn’t spike Blueberry water or something, right? 

“I didn’t drink anything, Date - san,” Tobio tilts his head at you in confusion, acting as if his face’s temperature doesn’t change faster than Osamu eats. That’s not natural. Human beings don’t do shit like that, damn it. 

“It’s [Name], I told you,” you tug his finger a little. You carefully shake your head, not believing in one word he says, returning your attention to Daichi. He shivers at your glare. Good. He should be scared of you. He is the worst parent since Jocasta and she was the mother of Oedipus, “Uno Reverse Card. Why was his face so red? That’s not natural. You should take care of your underclassmen.” 

You end your statement by flicking your hand which would probably look much cooler if somebody would be able to see that. They are only able to notice trembling flowers instead, so they don’t react. 

Or rather, you won’t give them time to react. The best defense is offense, after all. 

“Not that I thought much about your ability as a human being highly anyway. What are you doing anyway? Spying on us?” you point your flowers at Tanaka as if it was a sword, “As if nearly punching my friend was enough of the declaration of the war. The fuck you were doing with Sam - chan, bitch? You think I would let something like that slide?” 

You decide to ignore Tobio, Daichi, and Yuu for the moment, focusing your whole energy on trying to imitate the legendary glare of Shinsuke Kita. You don’t feel freezing wasteland around you, so it’s probably doesn’t work. Damn, you need more practice. With that one plan stomped on, you instead wave your hair and place your hand that is still clutching hydrangeas on your waist. 

You regret it only a little as the coldness of the plants is not something comforting on your skin on that cold night. You don’t let the unpleasantness of it show on your face, gazing sharply on Tanaka, expecting him to retort.

The baldy chuckles awkwardly, bringing his palm to his chin and rubbing the place awkwardly. There is a little blush on his cheeks. At least he is ashamed of his actions. 

“I’m sorry, [Name] - chan, I think you are cute, but Kiyoko - san is my one and only.“

Or he is not. That’s not what you were talking about! You don’t give fuck about his simpery. You don’t want to hear any compliments from him. The word cute is so cursed anyway. It comes back again and again, making you only angrier. 

You raise your leg and kick the door again, behaving like a delinquent out of the old manga. Your move stops whatever ha wanted to say next. Good. You don’t want to hear it anyway. 

“I don’t give two shits about who you think is better looking,” you tell him, your tone soft. He smiles at you, not understanding what exactly is happening. 

You are not a kind, forgiving soul who understands he prefers that one pretty girl over you. You are Death Reaper, here to introduce yourself to your future victim. You tear your hand away from Tobio and point your middle finger at him, your lips curling into a vicious smile. His face instantly changes. 

“If you ever try to lift any of your fingers at my best friend again, I will very slowly introduce you to the Iron Maiden. Then you can simp for her in hell.” 

You stick your tongue out, leaving him breathless. He stands dazed, so you think your threat was received how you intended at least. Now that your one hand is free, you can throw your hair off your shoulder, feeling victory on your tongue. 

“That’s super hot, [Name],” Nishinoya smiles like a sun, showing you a thumb up, instantly breaking your good mood, “I’m falling for you even more!” 

You want to retract everything nice you have ever said about him. Even his little bribe of ice cream can’t - can’t change your mind. Your cheeks suddenly become rosy as you lose all of your confidence that gathered from only Satan knows where.

H-hot? Falling for you? What is he talking around?! You fidget on your legs, retreating immediately, wanting to hide. That - that’s too much for you! What is he doing?! 

“He is right,” Tanaka agrees, his cheeks redder than yours, as he nods furiously, “I think I need fresh the air,” you are standing out, for Lucifer’s sake! How much air does he need?! “You are so gorgeous when you are threatening people, [Name] - chan. But I have to stay loyal to Kiyoko - san!” he declares proudly, not caring how lame he sounds, “You will always be my number two!” 

N-number two? His n-number two?! You - you don’t know how should you react. 

You - you cannot be attractive, you cannot, you cannot! What is with people being masochists?! You could understand Ina, they are deranged mentally. You could understand Puffy, he is fucking pervert! Tanaka and Nishinoya were supposed to be nice! Kind! Why are they reacting like that?! Why are they getting all hot and bothered about it?! They should be scared! Scared! 

Instead, Nishinoya and Tanaka are _hitting on you_! They call you attractive! That shit is not happening. Only somebody with zero brain cells would hit on you, so it means they are making fun of you, which - which disappoints you. Scares you. Saddens you. 

You can’t take it anymore. You are going to cry _again_. 

You need an adult. Shinsuke is nowhere close, though, so you will take twins and Suna over them any time of day. They call you pretty, beautiful, or cute, but at - at - at least, they don’t call you hot or gorgeous! And they are your friends, they have every right to call you that, they love you! 

Whatever tension your words caused earlier disappears entirely as you frantically retreat. Nope, nope, you can’t deal with, you don’t want to deal with, someone please, take you out of this misery. 

“H - hey, what’s wrong, K - Kageyama?” Nishinoya suddenly stammers. You feel Tobio taking a step ahead of you, trying to cover your little frame from his teammates’ view, just like Osamu would. 

Your heart beats faster at that unexpected gesture. 

_Wasn’t you the one who was supposed to protect him? When did he grow up so much? Is that how a mother feels when a child leaves her home?_

Wait, you still didn’t adopt him. 

Well, fuck it, you will take it at this point. You may be a machine of death and the destruction, future evil overlord of this world, but you know people fake-flirting with you are too dangerous. 

“I - I get it, dude, I’m not going to - “ you hear Tanaka stumble over his words, looking pale at Tobio. He glances over at you and somehow his skin becomes even more wan, “Hey, I’m backing - backing out, don’t look at me like that!” 

“How do I look at you like, Tanaka - san? I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

Woah, Tobio sounds super confident over here. You can even say his tone of voice colder and sharper than steel. You are not able to see his face, as he tries to hide from the view of his teammates, but his ears are not red. 

It’s touching that for you he can bring so much courage. It makes your little black heart leap with joy. 

“[Name], are you alright?”

You bat your eyes at the familiar voice of Osamu. Where did it come from? He sounds furious. Or as furious as Osa can be, which is to say, not really. You tilt your head, gently once again, in the direction you think you heard it, and yeah, you find him easily enough. Wasn’t he supposed to wait for you? Should - should you get angry?

“Sunshine?” the concerned tone of Atsumu comes next and you spy your blond friend standing next to the yawning Rin, “Do you need a little assistance?” 

At least they ask this time. Okay, you guess you can forgive them this one time. _A little assistance_ probably means _Do you want me to give those people a quick ticket to Shadow Realm?_ You feel that rolling your eyes is a pretty good answer to that.

Wait. They can’t see the movement of your eyes. 

Oh, Sweet Jesus. 

“I’m fine, thank you!” you shout to them. Sniffing, you lean from Tobio’s back, looking straight at Tanaka, “Fuck off, you simp,” you growl at him before you gently pat Blueberry on the side of his stomach in what you hope is a comforting manner.

His lips twist in a strange, crooked line, so you just beam at him, not knowing how to react otherwise. You hope he tries to - well, you don’t know. He just looks so earnestly you know he doesn’t mean anything cruel. 

“Gotta go before Shinsuke catches us sneaking off,” you say gently. His eyebrow raises at the word _sneaking off_ , but you don’t really want to explain how illegal your little trip was. You can absolutely see the amount the guilt he would feel already. It’s better to end things on a high note. You pat him again, as you start your retreat, “Bye-bye, Tobio! Call me maybe.”

 _Call me definitely_ , more like. Wait, now you have his number. You can call him! 

With that said, you skip ahead, ignoring the sudden urge to parkour through the railing like a smooth motherfucker you are not. You choose to use stairs instead, being mundane and boring human. At least there is a bounce in your steps, as you very clumsily rush off, darting towards your friends with hydrangeas in your hand. 

“Wait, [Name] - chan! I didn’t want to trouble you! I’m sorry!”

“Hey, he is right! [Name], I will buy you more cream puff Gari Gari Ice Pops!” 

_Fuck off, losers._

You ignore their pathetic cries, not even looking back as you join your friends. You smile at them, offering your free hand to Osamu. He takes it instantly, humming a bit. The comforting warmth of his hand makes you even giddier, so you giggle softly. 

“Thank you for waiting, Sam - chan, AtsuAtsu, Rin,” you say cheerfully, waving your flowers in their direction, “I got hydrangeas! Aren’t they the prettiest? I have to show them to Vlad-chan, he is going to love them.” 

You pull Osamu ahead with your hand, not wanting to say next to school anymore. He advances after you - and, well, that’s the moment you remember you don’t exactly know the way. You hear a yawn coming out of Rin, who passes you, as he leads you out of this literal gaze. The rest of you follow obediently and in silence, not counting Osamu’s humming, which is unusual.

You peer at your friends. Sam seems to be happy just holding your hand, eating biscuits that he hides in his pockets. You pop your lips at that, squeezing his palm. He doesn’t even have to look at you. He just takes one of them and brings it directly to your lips, feeding you like a mama bird feeds its child. You bite into it without any further thought. 

You munch at it, as you turn around to glance at Atsumu. The blond twin eyes your hydrangeas suspiciously, wrinkling his nose in displeasure as if he was allergic. You pretty damn know he is not allergic to flowers. He spent too much time buying you them to be. 

“What is this about, the light of my life?” he questions, his hand reaching to touch the petals. You let him, just this once trusting he will behave like a good person, “Did you steal them?” 

He thinks of you that lowly, doesn’t think? But even those words can’t destroy your good mood. 

“A present,” you bring your fingers into a peace sign, smiling widely. He furrows his eyebrows at you even further, so explain honestly, “Tobio bought me those to apologize. You can forgive him now, idiots.” 

You nearly feel something break as three gazes rest on you.

Instantly, you feel like you just chose a bad dialogue option in the game. Sweat drips from your forehead and you bring hydrangeas closer to your chest, trying to protect them from the demons’ fury.

Wait. Demons’ fury? Is Rin becoming a member of the Miya clan now? But his eyes are just as focused on your poor, innocent flowers. If you didn’t know better, you would say all three of them try to burn them with their eyes alone. You blink awkwardly, not wanting what to do with sudden interest. 

When you open your eyes again, Rin doesn’t look at your gift alone, only glaring at the sky for some strange reason. Hey, it’s not going to fall over, no matter how much you try. You know that your younger self attempted to do it as well. 

“Didn’t know the kid had it in him,” he teases. You wrinkle your nose in confusion. What Tobio has in him? Guts to give your apology? He apologized time and time again. Suna continues, not knowing how much bafflement he caused you, “Good for him. So, when is the wedding?” 

Seriously, what drugs is he on? That’s some good shit, you have to admit. What sort of dealer does he have? He is definitely on drugs. What else could let him talk about such stupid things? 

“What wedding?” you ask, rocking your head a little bit nervously. Would you like to attend a wedding reception? Yeah, like, you could finally get your high heels on, but you don’t want to meet new people. Can you go to a wedding where there are only you and your friends? 

But wait, then it wouldn’t be a wedding, just a party. Oh, a party. You would love something like that. Wear pretty clothes, gloss up and just sit around, do stupid shit you always do, but in fancy clothes. Nice. 

“No wedding!” Atsumu interjects instantly, flopping his hands melodramatically in the air, “Absolutely no wedding! I’m not giving _my_ [Name] away!” 

You giggle at that. Overprotective baby, not like - 

“Only I can buy you flowers,” Osamu says childishly causing you to look at him. He is sulking. He is _sulking_. His eyes are downcast, his forehead wrinkled and his lips twisted down. He tugs at your hand, bringing you closer to throw his arm around you. 

As he leans to rest his chin on your shoulder, you poke his cheek. Now you can’t even praise him, because there he goes, being just as bad as his brother. Well, you suppose they share DNA. 

“Sam - chan, we have talked about it,” you moan, though your tone is probably a little bit too fond, taking how exasperated you are by his antics, “Do I need to buy you flowers again, you big baby?” 

“Does it mean I can buy you flowers?” he perks up at that, making you sigh loudly. 

“What flowers?” Rin cuts in, “Tell me, tell me, I need more blackmail material.” 

“Stop using the situation, RinRin!” Atsumu huffs with indignation before he turns to his still pouting twin, “That’s not true, Samu, you selfish pig,” the older twin shakes his head, showing maturity you didn’t expect of him, “Only _we_ can buy you flowers, sunshine. Give me that, I’m going to deal with it and buy you better ones.” 

He reaches to your hand, trying to steal your gift around. You free yourself from Osamu’s grip and spin around, dodging his grabby hands. He follows after you and soon, you find yourself desperately holding onto your hydrangeas as he holds your waist in the air, trying to take them away.

“No, no, no, stop this!” you yell as you try to slip through his grasp, “Fuck off, Atsumu! Go away!” 

“Welcome again to our program,” Rin deadpans, looking ahead of you all as into a camera, ignoring your misery completely, “Today, we will talk about demons’ mating habits. Here we see - “

To your utter horror, you are not able to hear what Rin tries to say, as you focus on Osamu, who comes way too close to your form. You swing your legs at him, trying to keep him away, not trusting in whatever he wants to do. 

“Hey, Tsumu, stop wiggling her around, I can’t reach to those flowers - “ 

“I’m trying, Samu! Do you think it’s easy?!“

“You are all idiots! Get away from my flowers, Atsu! Osa, don’t you dare! I will hit you! I will puke at you! Hey, demon spawn, stay back!” 

* * *

Somehow, you make it to the hotel without losing your flowers. 

Your sanity, though. Your poor sanity. You will remember it fondly in the therapy that twins are going to pay for. They are, after all, the reason you will need it. And they are rich, damn it, they can afford it. You sniff a bit. 

“Idiots,” you mutter into Atsumu’s dumb hair, as you very deliberately, like a little shit you are, come with your lips dangerously close to his ear, practically threatening it with your teeth, “Idiots, idiots, idiots. I hate you all.” 

He stumbles for a bit but can remain balanced nevertheless. You don’t know if you should be happy about that, though. You don’t end meeting concrete with your face again, but he doesn’t trip either. 

It’s a lose-lose situation. You sigh. 

You wish you were a vampire. With fangs biting into Atsumu’s ear would be much more intimidating. He simply waves you off like that, hearing your words for the sixteenth or seventeenth time. 

“You are one to talk, getting piggyback like a child, sunshine,” he mocks you as if he was not the one who offered you a ride on his back, “Are you three?” 

“And you claim you don’t spoil her rotten,” comes the voice of Osamu. He pats his twin on the shoulder as the next words leave his mouth, “You fucking simp.” 

“Simp,” Rin deadpans in agreement, “We should take a photo of you and just upload it next to definition to save the humiliation of thousands of other young men. See? You are not going to be completely worthless, congratulations.”

“ _Congratulations_ ,” you sing shamelessly, “ _You have invited a new kind of stupid.”_

“Being used as a bad example,” Osamu nods, “Just what I expected out of you, Tsumu.” 

“Shut up!” he yells after all of you in embarrassment, his cheeks red, “As if any of you are any better!” 

If you think about it, isn’t friendship just being simp for each other? Huh, that’s something to think about in the shower. 

“I’m legally a child anyway,” you snap back, taking one of Tsu’s golden locks and pulling it. Atsumu only laughs, not feeling any sort of pain from your attack, so you abandon it, repeating your words, “I hate you.” 

Words can be, after all, sometimes more hurtful than punches. Not this time, though. He doesn’t care about your petty loathing, because he is Atsumu. The day he cares is the day he dies. He lowers himself just next to the lavish entry of your hotel, letting your crawl off his back. 

You don’t do so gracefully, because you don’t do anything gracefully, but at least you are able not to break any of your bones. You stand up and take better hold of your still mostly intact hydrangeas. 

“Cannot live without us,” he teases as he fixes his posture, pinching your arm, “Say you love me.”

The demand is so dumb that you can’t help it. You do what he wants, knowing he will regret it anyway.

“I love you,” you say, rolling your eyes and kicking him in the calf, “Now, get in the hotel, I’m fucking cold.” 

He stutters in answer, blushing like a baby he is, and nearly darts off towards the door. You and Osamu share a glance, while Rin follows him, bellowing word Simp so loudly that the poor receptionist looks ready to cry. 

You feel pity for those hotel people. They will never agree to accommodate you or any Ina student again. You hum, taking Osamu’s hand and the two of you go to the elevator where Rins waits patiently. It seems Atsu decided to go for the stairs, the masochist, so your little ride is blissfully quiet, unhinged by any stupidity. It changes the moment you leave it, of course. 

Atsumu stands rooted to his place next to the corner. You join him, not sure what caused him to stop. You honestly are ready to see one of your coaches, laying on the floor and bemoaning the fate of never seeing their favorite dog again or/and about having to deal with demons. 

What you don’t expect to see in the corridor is Shinsuke Kita, the most important person in your school, calmly talking with Waka Ushiyama. Mostly because you kinda forgot about being much more sneaky than you should. MI6 is never going to take you in again. 

The four of you pale instantly as Shinsuke’s freezing gaze finds you easily enough. 

“Atsumu, Osamu, Rintarou,” he looks at every one of your friends coldly, before he stops at you. You shiver, biting your lip in anticipation, but his tone comes much more softly as he addresses you, “[Name].” 

“It’s Atsu - chan’s fault,” you say at the same moment as Osamu points at his brother and declares, “It’s Tsumu’s fault.” 

You would high-five him, but it’s hard to move with Shinsuke glaring at you. 

“We will talk about it later,” he decides instantly before he motions with his hand at Waka, who is standing patiently nearby, “We talked about the fish you _rescued_ from the restaurant, [Name].” 

He means the one you stole. Vlad III Tepes, your little child. Okay, but why - 

Oh. He wants you to give him away. You recoil, the thought nearly causing your physical pain. No. No! Nein, nie, nunu, nyet. You don’t want to, not really. Not now, not so soon. You are not ready. You cross your arms around your shoulders, trying to defend yourself.

All of them seem to wait for you to answer, so you come closer to them, standing just in front of Shinsuke and Waka as you ask in a broken, pathetic tone. 

“My Vladdie?” 

You nearly flinch at how pathetic you sound, but you can’t help it. It’s your fish. Your little Vlad and you completely forgot that they wanted to give him away. Yes, that would be the best for him, but - 

But -

It’s too soon. 

“I think you know it’s the best to say goodbye, [Name],” Shinsuke tells you as you come closer to them. You look at him incredulously, the hurt eminent in all your body language, so he reaches over, seemingly unsure, to head pat your hair, “You can’t take him with you. Wakatoshi agreed to take care of him for you.”

Wakatoshi nods at that, sensing your apprehensive mode. 

“I will make sure he is happy,” he tells you seriously. You trust him, no matter how irritating a good person he can be, so it’s not really an issue. 

Your problem is you. You are just selfish. 

You never had a pet before if you don’t count Atsumu. No dog, no cat, not even a hamster as your father is allergic to anything cute. When you moved out to live alone, you also didn’t want to get one before, because - 

Well, you can be pretty irresponsible and lazy. And you would feel bad for leaving it alone for half a day, because of something as stupid and trivial as a school. 

It would be better to let Waka take care of Vlad. But you just don’t want to. 

“Do - do I really have to?” your inquire is a childish one, but nobody looks at you down because of it. You are pretty sure they are too understanding. You fidget nervously, uncrossing your arms and clasping them together. 

“You can’t take care of him, marshmallow,” you hear Osa’s tender whisper, “You have to let him go.” 

“We’re going to buy you new if you want,” Atsumu offers, causing you to frown. You don’t know if he is joking or if he is serious and you don’t know which option pisses you off more.

“I don’t want a new one,” you explain yourself anyway, as you bite your lower lip, “None of them will ever impale people as beautiful as him.” 

“Fish don’t impale people.”

“Shut up, Rin.”

After that, you all stand in silence. You would like to say you are debating the pros and cons of the situation you found yourself in, but you don’t. Your head is empty as your heart beats heavily in your chest. With every _thump,_ you feel as if it moves slower, trying to die just like all of your love. 

“Are you are ready, [Name]?” 

You are not, but you nod nonetheless. You move your feet, no matter how hard it seems to be, and go to your room. You leave your flowers on the corner of your bed, as you hastily take your impromptu tank. Vlad swims happily in it. You close your eyes, thinking if defenestrating yourself is a viable option.

It would kill Vlad as well, so probably not. 

You hastily take his bowl in your hands and leave the room before you change your mind, returning to Waka and Shinsuke who are waiting for you patiently. Twins are nowhere to see, just like Rin, but you decide to ignore it, for now, your priority being your little fishie. 

He is so cute.

And you are supposed to say goodbye. Your hands tremble a little as you give the bowl to Waka. The shit was heavy, so you actually should feel better as you hand it over. Way too heavy. You don’t, knowing it’s goodbye.

First Eliza. Now Vlad. Everybody you love leaves you. You sniff a little, trying your hardest not to cry. Waka saw you cry yesterday already, and you don’t want to make him think you are a crybaby, even if you are one deep in your little, black heart. 

Waka doesn’t break a sweat as he takes it from your hands, holding both Vlad’s food package and your fish easily enough. 

“Can I get your number from Shinsuke?” you ask, tapping your foot into the floor nervously, “To make sure he is going to be happy, alright and cute, and good, and - “ 

“I will send you reports every day,” Waka swears. Your lip quivers as you fight back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Seeing your broken face, his face becomes even more serious, “I’m going to take care of him.”

You know he will. He is too good of a person not to. 

“Bye-bye, Vlad - chan,” you whisper, planting a soft kiss on cold glass, “Be happy impaling people in Shiratorizawa. Live your best life and remember to never eat any kebab, my sweetheart. Be strong and - and - remember that you are so much cooler than Dracula.” 

You wipe out a single tear fleeting down your cheek as you move to bow before Waka.

“Sorry to be such a problem.” 

“You are not,” he answers. Would it be anyone else, you wouldn’t believe because what Waka did was far too kind to offer to a strange. He furrows one of his brows, sensing that you don’t believe him in the slightest, “If it was a problem, I wouldn’t do it.” 

You have to save him from Washijo. 

He doesn’t deserve the life of a child-soldier. Wait, he is eighteen, right? Can you classify him as a child? You peer at his Teddy Bear-like eyes. They are so soft and innocent that you can totally call them child-like. 

So, yeah. Saving. Gonna do that ASAP. 

“Please be safe, Waka - san,” you tell him, waving slowly. You can’t exactly demand of him to change schools. For now, “Be sure to come home quickly. It’s a dangerous world, full of psychopaths and demons.” 

“I’m going to be fine,” he answers simply, bowing his head a little, “Take care of yourself, [Name], Kita.” 

“See you at nationals, Ushijima,” is Shinsuke’s level answers, as he bows his head right back. Your lips curl into a pout as you see him disappearing around the corner. Vladdie swims a little in his tank, his tail creating ripples in the water. 

_If you love him, let him go._

But letting go hurts. 

You fight back the sob as you try to at least do that one thing with dignity. Let Vlad remember you with all the dignity you can muster, looking sad, but proud. 

_Fare thee well_ , you think solemnly. 

Your heart becomes just a little bit emptier. 

You feel Shinsuke’s hand on your head once again, as he gently, nearly hesitantly starts ruffling your hair. You reach to his hand with the two of your own and squeeze it a little. It’s strange, what sorrow does to a person. Strangely, you want to lean into his touch, into his warmth and you don't feel any embarrassment at that. Maybe you are just way too busy grieving.

“You did a good thing, [Name],” he tells you softly, “I’m very proud of you.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He looks at you back, his tender expression causing your heart to skip. 

_I’m very proud of you._

Somehow, his words mean more than the world. You open your mouth, wanting to say something kind back, but your words change the moment air hits your nose. 

“Is that smoke?” 

You sniff a little, the awful smell hitting your nose, and, confused, you turn around. Indeed. There is smoke in the hotel’s corridor, rising slowly just out from open doors. Atsumu and Osamu’s open door. Okay, so there is a fire in the twins’ old hotel room. Wasn’t the restaurant enough for them? 

Shinsuke takes his hand away from you as he probably can deduce the same thing. He swiftly moves in that direction. Little arsonists, you think fondly, as you start to walk after him. You can try to go to a bonfire, just like in middle school. 

In contrast to your light mood, Shinsuke narrows his eyes, walking into the room with determination to curb whatever stupid thing they are doing. You swear he would sigh heavily at what he sees were he a normal human being. 

You don’t care, though, skipping ahead to see what they do with curiosity that killed the cat. 

“Whatcha doin’, demons?” you sing-song cheerfully, as you enter the containment zone. 

Your smile instantly breaks off. Curiosity killed the cat, that’s true. But it didn’t kill you. It made you angrier than it should be possible, though. The scene before you is like from a horror. 

Atsumu stands next to the window, trying to wave the smoke through the window. Osamu leans a little bit out of the window, holding the item smothered in flames over the edge. Both of them look back to you, equally baffled and terrified. 

Why? 

Because the item, the thing that is currently burning in the inferno’s flames, belongs to you. Those are your flowers. Or, rather, those _were_ your flowers. The ones you were just gifted by Tobio. Your beautiful, beautiful hydrangeas, a sweet gesture given to you freely by that shy boy, stand on fire.

The fire started by nobody else but your so-called best friends. 

“Shit,” Rin comments dryly, moving his phone’s camera to film you, “That’s going to give me so many views.” 

You ignore him, your eyes transfixed on the burning plants. You swear you hear Shinsuke sighing.

“[Name], that’s not what you think - “

“We just wanted - “ 

You raise your hand in the air and they instantly stop their stupid excuse. Your flowers are still burning, just like all of your dreams and hopes. They are getting away from you, disappearing from your life just like Vlad does. 

Are you angry? What sort of question is that? You are _motherfucking_ fuming. You want nothing more than to take your hydrangeas and use the fire they smothered your hydrangeas in, to lit up them on stake. 

This is what being a manager taught you, though: Your anger is supposedly adorable. You don’t know what is cute about a girl who tries to murder you, but some people like yanderes. Maybe you somehow fit into that trope. 

So. 

What is the second most awful thing you can do to them? 

It’s so simple it’s silly. You smile softly to their utter bewilderment and your silent joy. 

“Honey?” Osamu tries, knowing that you have a soft spot for him. He can’t use it against you now. He is dead to you, even if his awful body is still operating, “We are very sorry, but it’s for your own good. Please don’t be angry at us.”

Maybe you would believe him if your flowers were not on motherfucking fire. You look at them, trying to kill both him and his stupid brother with your eyes alone. Alas, it doesn’t work, so you decide to go for a real strike. 

“Miya - san,” you bow to them, “I hope you both have a good night.” 

You turn around as they scramble after you in panic.

* * *

So, yeah, fish angst. That's so ridiculous, wtf I'm even writing at this point? Lolol, hope you enjoyed it anyway. Not going to lie, we are slowly stepping into the End of the Miyagi Trip, so it's probably goodbye to our simps from there for a little bit. But don't worry, they are not going to disappear, we just need to fish new ones. Sakusa, Kuroo, Bokuto, I hope you are ready. Cue evil laughter.


	34. In which bombs and hugs fix everything (okay, that's a bath bomb, but it is technically a bomb).

Hippity hoppity, abolish your propriety. It all fun and games, when your items are not on the line. Having your private possessions seized _hurts_. No surprise the Soviet Union has fallen. Mr. Lenin, you were doomed from the start. If you ever visit him in Moskva, you are going to enrich his embalmed body with your knowledge. 

“[Name],” Atsumu screeches from below. You glare at the parasite clutching to your leg like a koala. Koalas, you determine, are not allowed to be called cute anymore. Not when the demon-like grip nearly proceeds to cut off your blood flow, “Sunshine, sunny, my beloved, please, listen to us.”

You don’t want to, though. You don’t want to listen to excuses, to lies, to their honey-laced words. You try your best to hold your anger in, knowing that if you punch his stupid head, it will end only as innocent teasing. 

You don’t want that. You want to be petty and childish, and stay furious. Rage is good. Rage is familiar. Rage you can deal with. If you let go of it, you are going to be _hurt_ and sad. You already regret all of the choices you have made. You should never go back to school. You should never become Inarizaki’s manager. You should never let their good-intended selves let you in that team. 

That’s exactly what you are going to do. 

It’s the best punishment - for you, for them, for everybody. You are going to _resign_. You love this team, just a bit. You are happy to talk with them, even if most of them are assholes _and_ idiots. The reason you joined, the reason you decided to open your door was always the same. 

Atsumu and Osamu. 

You did it for them. 

“Little star,” Osamu tries, using the nickname long forgotten, his arms around your waist, “ _Please_.” 

They try to use their puppy eyes on you. Absolutely disgusting. 

They are also the reason you regret doing it, because no matter how much you love them, what they did was horrible. They are not apologizing, just trying to pacify your anger, as if what they did was righteous. As if you were wrong to get flowers from somebody else. 

You know how Vesuvius had to feel a moment before it exploded and destroyed the city of Pompeii. 

Your hydrangeas are nothing more but ashes on the wind, forever gone. Your anger, though, is still burning in your chest. You don’t even want to murder them. You wish you were capable of hurting them, of threatening them, of calling a Russian named Ivan to order an airstrike on their location. You are not. It sucks. You want to get a receipt for your whole life. 

You won’t get one, of course, but you can get a receipt for being the manager. 

With you being in open war and no peace conference to be ever held, you don’t think you can stay in Inarizaki’s volleyball team any longer. It’s not like you can quit now, though. So, after you return, you will bring your free goodies back, as much as it pains you to part with something free and you will write a formal resignation from your job. You are not a very good manager anyway, nobody will ever miss you. You are going to close your god-damn door again and graduate Inarizaki online just like you did in the last year of attending Yako Middle School. 

It’s better that way. With you out of the way, they can focus on their precious volleyball, and you can stay forever coped in your room, not having friends, afraid of leaving it, and not getting flowers from shy boys with beautiful hands.

It had to be so pricey. You remember Tobio giving them to you shyly, stammering and blushing. What are you supposed to tell him? That all of it just disappeared in the flames, because of your friends? He can’t know. He mustn't. You are going to have to _lie_ to him. You are going to hurt him, even if he never finds out. Meeting fantastic Kageyama Tobio happened just because you opened your door, but at the same time, you are getting hurt because you opened them. 

Life sucks.

“It was Tsumu’s idea,” the muffled voice of Osamu whispers, “We don’t want you to be hurt over him, please, [Name], understand.” 

“What do you mean _my idea_? You didn’t fight it at all, Samu, you hypocrite,” Atsumu snaps back, as he climbs over the leg, adjusting his grip, so he kneels just before you, holding your abdomen tightly, “Don’t listen to him, sunshine, he is stupid, but he is right, we want the best for you.”

“You are so lame, Tsumu.” 

You are not going to even try to grace that with an answer. They don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve anything out of you. To be honest, you would love to be out of their still-destroyed room, but they are still holding you firmly, immobilizing you more surely than PIAT did to the tanks. 

You don’t let a sigh leave your body, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. Rin is still filming the drama that has become your life.

“Somebody sleeps on the couch this night,” he says dryly to the phantom audience, “Good job, demon number two, demon number one.” 

You glare at him, fuming, not liking the way he says it. It’s nothing so simple as a domestic dispute. Karen took the kids? Oh, no, no, Your Honor. Karen killed the kids. And the kids didn’t belong to her at all. They were yours and they were gifts from another man. _You don’t even like kids._ This metaphor doesn’t make any sense at all. 

“Miya-san, please let go of me,” your voice is saccharine-sweet. Using it when you are so overwhelmed by negative emotions makes you want to gag, “Miya-san.” 

At the sound of his last name leaving your mouth, Atsumu screeches like a demon. Osamu is no better, his hands tightly pressed to your abdomen, as he tries to hold you off from storming from the room. 

Flowers are unlike kids, though. You liked them. Loved them. Wanted to name every single one. You want them back. It’s not possible to resurrect them, you know it, but you wish for a miracle anyway. 

Rin sighs as you silently try not to explode at them.

“Want me to save the day?” he asks impassively. You three whip your heads at him in such harmony it is hard to believe you are fighting right now. You twist your lips into a scowl. 

Fuming, you cross your arms around your chest as Osamu and Atsumu release you. It seems they are desperate and trust Rin to deliver. Unlike you, who cannot even get fucking flowers without them intervening in the worst way imaginable. 

_It’s not fair_ , you glower to yourself, _It’s not fucking fair. I know them longer. Why do they rely on you so much more? Why do they treat me so differently? It’s not fucking fair._

Rin doesn’t care about your sullen humor, as he reaches over to the unbroken, or rather the least broken, cupboard. He opens the upper drawer and takes something out of it with great care. 

You blink, surprised. 

There is a single, blue hydrangea in Rin’s hand. 

“Here, pretty girl.”

He takes a few steps and reaches over to your ear. He smiles at you gently as he tucks the flower behind it. His hand is warm on your skin, nearly soothing your ever-lasting rage. He makes sure your ear is going to hold blue hydrangea steadfastly before he kneels, taking your hand into his own. 

“Only could save one, my fair lady, “ he tells you, his bland face shifting a little. He looks mischievously at you as he leans forward, leaving a chaste kiss on your palm, “Forgive this humble knight.” 

You let your heart skip a beat before you slap his hand away. 

It’s not a miracle. It’s a cruel joke. You are furious. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,_ they say. You are a woman and you are getting scorned, so you understand it better than you ever did before. 

You are _seething_ and any embarrassment you would normally feel from his teasing is nothing compared to the lava that flows through your veins. What did he think would happen? That you would blush demurely like a maiden from legends and then curtsy, play along with this little charade? 

Sorry, Suna Rintarou, but your princess is in another castle. 

“Oh, tell me, the noble knight,” your voice is derisive and mocking as you tear the little flower from beyond your ear. You twirl it in your hand, your eyes more ominous than the Eye of the Sauron as he flinches, “ _If you were able to save one, how is it that you didn’t save them all, Suna - san?_ How is it you didn’t try to stop them from burning them all? You were able to save one, so you had enough time to at least yell for me, yes _?_ ” 

He doesn’t answer, shocked into silence. Good. You don’t think you would be able to handle any more of this bullshit. You hate it. You hate twins for doing something so petty. You hate Rin for going along. But mostly, you hate yourself for leaving your flowers alone even for the second. You hate yourself for trusting anyone at this point. 

“Did you ever think how much it’s going to hurt me?” you grimace, sounding strangely meek and teary for being so filled with rage, “Any of you? It hurts like hell.” 

You thought about him as a _friend_. 

The word echoes in your head. Look at [Name] Date, the naive, stupid girl, who trusted again, who wanted a friend again, and who was betrayed again. He is going to laugh at you now, tell _sike_ , and claim all of your friendship was a hoax anyway, so why should he care for your stupid flowers.

This is why you should never leave your room. And yet, you were tricked into leaving your basement, into becoming a manager for the sport you didn’t care off. For them, you left your comfort zone again and again, and they couldn’t even respect you enough to leave a little gift of sincerity in your hands. 

You still love them. That’s the worst part. Why did they even do that? Jealousy? Protectiveness? You talked about it just yesterday and you thought they were better. That they can trust you, leave you alone for a second, and live their own lives. That’s all you want. For them to see that - that they don’t have to sacrifice everything for you. 

Full stop. You don’t want to think about their motivations. If you do, you are going to feel bad and forgive them, and you are not ready for it, no matter how much you care. Caring sucks. Caring sucks so much. You want nothing more than let them kiss your fingers and hide in their embraces, but their touch is poisonous and toxic. Their hands that reach for yours burned something precious for you. 

You swallow the acid you feel in your mouth, as you are finally able to turn around to gaze at Shinsuke. Your job here is done. You don’t want to see or talk to any of them anymore. Batting away the tears in your eyes yet again, you wonder if you are to trust even Shinsuke. If his face of a reliable, kind person is not a mask too. 

“It seems not only twins are going to sleep on the couch,” you scowl in his direction. Shinsuke looks at you with a question plainly written on his handsome face, so you let your demeanor soften, “Can I stay the night at your room, Shinsuke?” 

It’s a plea. You feel at this point like begging him because there is no way you will stay in the same room as twins, and they don’t have where to sleep _but_ in your room. Just look at this mess around you. You are surprised the hotel staff didn’t close it with a very big sign on the doors: _Be cautious! There will be dragons_. 

You could just close your room in front of their noses, but you are too much of a pansy to do something like that. Shinsuke is your last resort. The only person you can trust in that shit of the team. 

“Of course,” he answers without any hesitation, making the heaviness in your heart disappear instantly. You smile at him, clutching your hydrangea a little bit lighter. 

One thing is taken care of. Now you only have to get your luggage. Your smile, a little bit shaky, causes Shinsuke to squint eyes at you in what you think may pass as worry for somebody as robotic as him. 

“Wait, wait, wait, I don’t agree with that!“ Atsumu shouts, not being able to read the mood of the room at all. You tense. 

“No fucking way, [Name], you are taking this too far,” Osamu agrees with him, reaching over to touch your shoulder. You don’t let him, though, taking a step backward and raising your hands in defense. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Miya - san,” you say scornfully, trying to emanate as much anger and disappointment as you are possible, “You have nothing to say about my whereabouts. It’s not something you can complain about.”

 _Not anymore_ is left unsaid, just hanging in the air. 

You don’t stick your tongue out, you don’t even flip him off, showing just how grave you are. He flinches as if you slapped him. If not even more because your slap would be pathetically weak, let’s be honest. You do your best to pretend you don’t care.

“I need to take my things ~ “ you sing-song, turning around and forcing yourself to skip cheerfully over the exit. You don’t want to stay here, with them, “Sleep-over with Shinsuke ~” 

“[Name]!” 

“Sunshine!” 

“Hey, [Name][Name].” 

You grimace at their voices. 

“I will help you,” cuts in Shinsuke, stopping whatever they wanted to say. He joins you next to the door, “Atsumu, Osamu, Rintarou,” he sends his judging, cold gaze at all of them over his shoulder. He doesn’t need to raise his voice to make them shiver, “Taking [Name]’s possession and burning it is unforgivable. What were you thinking?” 

They don’t answer, probably because they were not thinking, they never do. You clap your hands in front of your chest, still holding a lonely flower in your hands. You don’t feel better. You still want to cry yourself to sleep and kick them in their stupid faces, but there’s no way you will let it show on your face. 

So you just don’t look back and rush to your room, Shinsuke following after you. As you enter, you leave your hydrangea in his hands. He takes it without any questions.

You don’t have a lot of things to pack - just some cosmetics and towels, oh, and your favorite pillow and plushie, and let’s not forget your pajama that you left in reckless abandon on the floor, okay, maybe it’s a lot of things - as you prefer to hold your things packed, so it only takes you a moment. Or two. Or three. 

You rush off to do it, anyway, not wanting to make Shinsuke wait. 

“[Name],” he stops you as you hurl your favorite plushie, Gaius Julius Caesar, into your bag, “Are you alright?” 

If it was somebody else, you would say that those words are concerned. It’s Shinsuke, though, Shinsuke Kita, the Prime Minister of Inarizaki High, the reliable captain of the volleyball team. He is your friend, but somehow, even the closest friends hurt you the most. 

Fuck, you are so salty that you can nearly compete with the Dead Sea. You start to be poetic about them burning your flowers. This is so bad. Your thoughts are so pathetic and cringey. You bite down on your lip. 

“I am ~ “ you hum softly, pushing Gaius further into your bag, “ _Couldn't be better, then he sent me a letter and who am I kidding ~ I was prêt-à-manger ~_ “ 

Huh, talking about _prêt-à-manger_ made you hungry. You could go for bagels. Maybe with salmon and cream cheese or, or, or, how about garlic bread? Hm. Eat away the stress is out of fashion anyway. Eat away the sadness is back in the menu, [Name]. 

With Julius safely packed, you reach over to your pillow. 

“You shouldn’t pretend.”

Your hands stop. You halt, not sure how to answer. Pretend. Is it what you are doing? It sounds wrong. You are too lazy, too dumb, too honest to do something like that, no matter how much you want to think of yourself as the Grey Eminence that slithers in the shadows. 

You deflate a little, throwing your pillow blindly into your luggage. Not fair. Washijo is the Grey Eminence in this story. You can be only the Bloodthirsty Emperor. 

“[Name],” he repeats when you remain silent. You still don’t know how to answer though, so you sigh, as you look at him and straighten back into the standing position. 

“They weren’t always like that,” you tell him, hoping your voice is not as miserable as you feel, “It’s my fault, but I can’t just forgive them, you know? Those flowers meant a lot to me and they didn’t even try to apologize. I would forgive them the moment they did, cuz I’m a weak bitch. But they didn’t. They still think they did the right thing. Fuckers.” 

“You are not weak,” Shinsuke’s answer comes instantly, “You are kind, [Name].”

“Nope,” you shake your head, “Kind person would - she would - ugh. I don’t know.” 

He comes closer to you. Shinsuke is not as tall as the twins, but he feels so much bigger, somehow. Bigger even than Moon Tower and his stupid 190 cm tall-ass. Is it how all charismatic people feel? You can’t begin to imagine being somebody like that with your height not even touching a meter-and-half. 

For somebody cold, who rules over frozen wastelands, he is surprisingly gentle as he lands his palm on your head. He caresses your hair, as if you are somebody deserving such tender gesture, as if your reaction is not exaggerated, as if you are precious to him. 

“I’m not,” you try again, pitifully, “I’m - I’m an awful person.” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just gazes at you so kindly that he doesn’t have to. He is your _senpai_. No term suits him more, as he tells you time and again that you are not the person you see yourself as. That your feelings are valid. That you matter. 

A sob escapes your mouth. You think of your flowers, blue, white and pink. You think of Tobio, red from alcohol consumption. You think of Vlad, your little fish. Your heart clenches. Anger, hurt, sadness, betrayal. You feel too much at this moment. You think too much at this moment. And it all culminates in a massive tsunami, trembling through your body. 

You don’t fight it any longer. 

You launch yourself into Shinsuke’s arms and _weep_. All those negative emotions swirl in your stomach, culminating in the pathetic cry for help. Shinsuke answers, embracing you to his chest and so, you grieve. You grieve your stupidity. You grieve the trust you held. You grieve, grieve, grieve - 

* * *

It feels like hours, but it probably takes about fifteen minutes or less for you to calm down. Shinsuke is with you the whole time, not complaining even once. He rubs circles around your back, soothingly ruffles your hair, and lets your cry into his shirt, not caring that it is now wet from your tears and snot. 

You only stop because you feel your head starting to ache from all this crying. You retreat a step and Shinsuke doesn’t wait to offer you his handkerchief. It’s really pretty. Looks like it’s hand-made. You wonder briefly if it something he made himself, or if it was present from his grandma. 

Well, he offered you it and you don’t want to start arguing about it right now. You sniff into it. 

“Do you feel better?” 

You peer at him, still holding the handkerchief close to your nose. _Do you feel better_? You don’t look better. You have to be such a mess, with wet hair clinging to your cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and red nose. Rudolph Red-Nosed Reindeer, that’s you right now, only you don’t give any gifts. You just weep over people. 

And your headache. Ugh. You hope somebody will lend you painkillers because you will die otherwise. Here lies [Name] Date, died from crying. A fitting end for somebody so weak, you suppose. 

You affirmatively mumble something. Shinsuke’s face is a little bit red as he looks over you, concern plain to see behind his mask. Was your proximity so bad? You should apologize. You frown. You don’t he would accept it even if you decided to fall on your knees and beg for forgiveness. He doesn’t want you to be sorry. 

“Probably,” you mutter under your breath, lying through your teeth, “Could still go for bagels.” 

You don’t feel catharsis. Catharsis was a lie, fuck you, Ancient Greece. You don’t feel better at all, but you really would love a bagel. How hard would it be to get a hand on New York Style’s bagels in Sendai anyway? Probably really fucking hard. 

“I will see what I can do,” he nods, taking your request way too seriously. At this point, you feel too tired to ever argue with him. Good Lord, you feel like you lost about four kilograms from crying alone. Is it even possible? 

Wait, did he just promise you bagels? No. No way. Right? He wouldn’t. Oh, who would are you kidding? He is probably serious and you can’t do anything to stop him. You sniff more in an act of petty, stupid revenge. 

“I should pack the rest of my things,” you say to his handkerchief, “Can I still stay with you?”

He simply nods, his cheeks flushed. The smile you give him is a little bit broken, but it’s full of gratefulness and affection. You start to move, quickly packing the rest of your things. You try to raise it, but it’s way too heavy for you, so you end up dropping it nearly at your foot. Shinsuke takes it away before you try again and hurt yourself for real. 

“Thank you!” 

He nods at you as he starts to walk. Feeling a little bit of heat, you follow after him, your mind already in the clouds. He is such a sweetheart that you would miss him if you resigned. Question is, should you? 

That’s what twins would want, wouldn’t they? Well, fuck them then. For now. You will probably change your mind the moment you see them. Ugh. Where is your determination to kill them brutally in their sleep? 

You would miss Shinsuke. You would miss Momjiro too, he who is perfectly confused at your appearance, but still manages to smile at you with kindness you don’t deserve.

“Hi, Mom,” you greet him, raising your hand in a wave, “Hope you don’t mind me bunking down with your tonight. Please, prepare dinner.” 

Dinner. You still didn’t eat one, but somehow, you don’t feel hungry. 

Your upperclassman probably wasn’t expecting his loud manager to storm into his way-too-large room and proclaim she is seizing his means of productions, but he doesn’t even blink. Wow. He spends way too much time with you all if this shit doesn’t faze his anymore. 

“Are you staying the night with us?” 

He says _us_ , but there is something stressed in that word, underlying. It’s a secret message, put down in invisible ink, only it’s not written at all. Enigma code can go hide, Mr. Turing, we have the DaVinci Code to solve, because you have no indication whatsoever why his word sounds so suggestive. 

Seriously, what is he trying to achieve? He was supposed to be a sane one. Inarizaki destroyed him. 

“Yup, yup,” you chirp, ignoring it for now. Shinsuke sets your luggage down and you beam at him in silent thanks. You twirl your hydrangea again, as you bring your finger to your mouth in silent wonder. 

The room is big. Too big for high-schoolers, your school is damned. If they are so super-rich, why is there no couch? They have a king-sized bed, can’t they afford a nice couch you can sleep on?! There is only one choice. 

Why couldn’t they at least give you a fluffy carpet? 

“Will sleep on the floor,” you decide grimly, not taking your eyes out from our future bed, “That fucking sucks,” you complain, not thinking that your bitching will change anything. Oh, you are such a sweet, summer child. 

“You will not,” your captain says without any hesitation, his eyes narrowing at you, “You are injured. If you sleep on the floor, it will make your bruises worse.”

“But - “

“No,” he cuts you off before you can even try. You pout unhappily, not liking taking a bed from him at all, but he doesn’t let you interject, as if he is afraid he will change his mind the moment you open your lips, “You are a girl, [Name]. We will not make you sleep on the floor.” 

“Shinsuke is right,” Momjiro nods seriously, making you question his sanity. You are already insane, nothing will help you, but he is supposed to be better, damn it! 

“What does it have to do with anything?” you wrinkle your nose in distaste, “We are all human beings. Our hearts beat the same and all of that shit. You shouldn’t treat me differently,” you rest your hands on your waist, looking at Shinsuke challengingly, “You promised to trust me, Shinsuke.”

You can’t fucking believe you are arguing for sleeping on the floor. Why can’t you just be a cheap bitch and take Shinsuke’s gracious offer? Why can’t you be easy? Why are you doing it yourself? 

Still, you are not going to change your mind, so you gaze straight at Shinsuke. You are a big problem already, you don’t want to cause him more. Sleeping on the floor? You bring your arms in the X shape. No way! He instantly deflates under your gaze. Huh. Your Robo - dad is getting softer, it seems. 

“You are - “ Ojiro trails off, seemingly not sure how to protect his captain’s stance, but wanting to help him nonetheless, “You are just softer, Date - I mean, [Name] - san. We are athletes. We can take it.”

 _Softer?!_ What sort of Alien-conspiracy is that? You raise your hand, turn your wrist inward, and poke it. Your skin is pretty smooth thanks to creams you use, that is true, but you can touch your bones through your skin. Bones are not soft. So. Humans can’t be soft. 

Ojiro is full of bullshit, you decide. 

“You are athletes so you should probably sleep on the bed,” you wrinkle your nose, not liking the direction he is taking this discussion. You twirl in the direction of Shinsuke, spinning your leg in what you want to think is a graceful way, “Please, Shinsuke, pretty please?” 

Yeah, that’s probably not going to work, but you can try! 

“Of - “ 

“No! That’s out of the question, ” you nearly jump at Aran’s yell. He points at you with his fingers accusatively, “You will say _Please, Shinsuke and_ he is going to do it!” 

You blink. What. Is he drunk _too_? Yeah, this is not how it works in the slightest. You saw Shinsuke decline so many different requests, why should your _Please, Shinsuke_ be any different? That is dumb and not something worth commenting on. 

Your opinion of him starts to become lower. You are going to blame twins for this new development. 

“She has you wrapped around her little finger, Shinsuke,” Momjiro wipes sweat forming on his forehead, ignorant to your thoughts, “Be more assertive. Play hard to get! You can’t go through her skull with your actions alone, she is too thick.” 

Your skull? Why is he talking about your skull?! Wait, is he calling you stupid?! In front of you? That is definitely lowering your opinion of him. He should have at least say it behind your back like all good moms! 

“Hey!” you yell, “That’s rude, Momjiro! I have the best grades in my class, I will let you know!” You huff, glaring at him before you glance at your pinky. Then at Kita who instantly blushed furiously again. What is with boys and blushing so much anyway? Is that some sort of sickness, “Now you are coming down in my personal rating, Momjiro! Aren’t you supposed to love all of your children equally?!”

“You are adopted,” he deadpans. You gently place your remaining flower on the little table and then theatrically gasp, bringing your palm to your chest. 

“ _Mommie_!” you yell out, “ _How could you?!_ ” 

He rolls his eyes at you. Rude. You puff your cheeks, but Aran, being the world’s best straight man ever, doesn’t react, making you fake-anger - or maybe not fake-anger, you are having a hard time right now, sue you, it happens. 

Wait, what did he say about fingers? Something-something wrapped about a finger? 

“You meant our pinky promise?” you ask him, your voice unsure, as you raise your little finger and wiggle it a little. Shinsuke flushes. 

“Yes, your pinky promise,” Momjiro lifts his eyes to the heavens - or rather to the ceiling, completely done with you for some reason. You scan him with your eyes, not understanding anything.

Okay, maybe you are a little thick, but your grades are still good, even if you are dumb, so you should be able to analyze it. Go, super-brain! Wait, it doesn’t work like that. It should damn it. 

“I trust you. Trust me as well, [Name],” Shinsuke clears his throat and so, you shift your attention to him. He is red and trying to maintain his composure as you peer at him, chewing your tongue, “Please take the bed.”

Are you imagining the desperate edge to his tone? You lower your head, wanting nothing more than to momentary disappears. There should be an easier solution to your problem. There should be. So why are the three of you talking about it for so long and can’t find it? Maybe all three of you are thick. 

“Can’t we share or something?” you twist your lips in a frown, “I feel bad about making you sleep on the floor.”

You thought those were correct words. Friends sleep next to each other all the time, just look at you and the Miya traitors. Shinsuke doesn’t seem to agree with you, though. 

“S-share?” he mumbles, looking a little bit dazed. You squint your eyes in worry, taking a step forward so you can see better. That makes him frantically starting to retreat, nearly tripping over his legs to avoid you.

That’s not what you expected. Did you make him uncomfortable with your suggestion? Was it too much? Oh god, you did something wrong once again. Time to panic! You look at him with absolute fear, as Ojiro stands up from his seat to balance his falling companion, while you watch on in horror. 

“Shinsuke!” Aran yells, taking his friend’s inert body and shaking it violently, ”Stay alive! Please, fight it! Just think - think about volleyball!” 

Is Shinsuke dying? Should you call for an ambulance?! What are you supposed to do in situations like these? Phone police, the ambulance or firefighters, or - Chtullu, you should call the army! The Prime Minister is dying! This is an emergency! 

“Why are you staying here anyway?!” 

Huh. You bat your eyes. Is that important right now? Shinsuke is _dying_. You answer anyway, mostly out of reflex, as you are a little bit dumb-founded. 

“Oh, do you mind? I just divorced demons.” 

It’s the appropriate way to call your divide, you guess. Just like the Christian church in the Eleventh Century, the three of you had the Great Schism. You didn’t split the religion, though, just your ways. Forever. Probably. Or at least until you will go back to Amagasaki. You don’t know if you can live without them longer. 

You can try, though, because all of them hurt you. Atsumu, Osamu, Rintarou. People you trusted, but who are unable to trust you. Or care about you, in the black-haired boy’s case. It hurts. It hurts that you loved them. It hurts that you still do. 

“You did what!” 

That’s way too dramatic, though. You roll your eyes, raising your hands in the air in exasperation. Recounting the tale makes you angry and miserable, but it seems you don’t have a choice. 

God, how are you supposed to show up at the breakfast? Where are you going to seat? What will you answer when Akagi or fucking Gintama asks what is wrong? Your only plan so far is to commit genocide or to conquer the world. Both of them are lame because you don’t have the resources to do either! And there is nobody to bail you from jail if you get caught. 

Stupid Miya menaces. They always have to start miya-ing things when you are happy. Or sad. Because you were sad. Your Vlad is gone. Your flowers are gone. Even your childhood friends are gone! And then one companion you liked, even if all he did was teasing you. 

Truly, they destroy everything they touch. 

“They burned my flowers, _mom_ ,” you scowl, “Flowers I got from a friend. I have a friend, senpai, and now I have to lie to him! How I’m supposed to tell him that my stupid former-friends destroyed his gift?!” you start getting hysterical, but you don’t feel fine, “What was I supposed to do? Act as nothing happened? As they - they, ugh! It’s not fair!”

You are going to tear the hair from your head in frustration. 

“They did what!” Aran screams, more in outrage than in question, still holding dead Shinsuke in his arms, “Those idiots! I would expect it from Atsumu, but Osamu too?!” he shakes his head in disappointment, clearly not knowing that Osamu is the worst of the two, “I didn’t take him as a jealous kind, not like Atsumu.” 

Was that really jealousy? You don’t know. That seems wrong. They will always be your number one, they should know it, so why would they get jealous if they just simply trusted you? The answer: they don’t. 

Yippie-yay, we get the winner. Congratulations. The prize: eternal damnation. Shouldn’t sell your soul for something so stupid. You sigh, tiredly, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep, be it on the floor or the bed. 

“Can I use your bathroom to go drown myself?” 

“Go ahead - wait, don’t!” 

“Too late.” 

You take your towel, your second set of pajamas, wrinkling your nose as you realize most of your T-shirts belong or belonged to the Miya twins. You should have expected it. Your tendency to put on their things just decided to kick you into your shin. Damn it. Why do you even do that? That is a stupid habit. Well, you can try to break it now. You don’t want to show yourself wearing their things, so you probably will have to visit a convenience shop to buy more tops for yourself. You have to thank Waka for showing you that you can buy clothes there. Cute clothes, even. 

Oh, Waka.

Vladdie. 

Your heartbeat accelerates. 

You - you are going to worry about it after you take a way-too-hot shower. Or maybe even a bath. Did you take your rubber duck and bath bombs? _Bath bombs_. They sound so violent and cool, and while they are not aggressive, not really, they are super awesome. 

You can find some between your cosmetics, so you take the black one because that is how you roll at this moment, pick your things, and lose yourself in the bathroom. You can spend about an hour or two there even without your loyal rubber duck, General Bonaparte. 

* * *

Okay, you spend only an hour in the bathroom, but you leave it smelling like red apples and vengeance nevertheless. You also feel and look a lot better with your hair and face routine done. Your hair is still a little bit damp, so you just pulled it into simple double buns on the top of your head, imagining yourself to be Princess Leia at first and then Ten Ten from _Naruto_. Only you are not a fan of Ten Ten, so you finally determined you are Kagura from _Gintama_. You giggle at the thought. Your team’s Gintama would be appalled. 

But yeah, nothing like bath bombs and hug to cure the sadness, who needs food? You don’t feel hungry anyway. 

You smack your lips again, content, as you peer at the room. Momjiro and Shinsuke are not twins: it is still standing and even looking pretty clean. That’s something new in Date’s household. The organized mess is pretty much the only way you know how to live. You don’t spy your team ace anywhere, but you see Shinsuke, sitting on one of the beds, crocheting something. 

You waddle to him like a clumsy duck. _Oh, General Bonaparte, you are dearly missed_ , you think as you slide down to the floor just in front of him. It’s a little bit cold, making you question the hotel’s choices once again. You cross your legs and flash a peace sign at him, smiling cheerfully. 

“[Name],” he greets you in a calm voice, raising his brows at your position, “Don’t sit on the floor. You will get sick.” 

You giggle at it, but he continues staring coldly at you. He is serious about this, really? You bite your lip, but change your location, not wanting to argue with General Winter himself. Huh, that nickname fits Shinsuke too. You crawl onto the bed lazily, slowly plopping yourself next to him. 

“Where is Momjiro?” you ask him, taking a glance at his work. You can’t tell what it is, but whatever he is doing is little and white, “Did he abandon you to die alone?” 

You bump his shoulder with your own. He doesn’t react with disgust! Just checking, to be sure, you know. Like, you cried in his arms, but maybe he hated you now for that? You mean, no, no, no, he doesn’t hate you, but he could! 

“Aran has gone to take a shower in Ren’s room.” 

Oh. You frown. That’s probably your fault. 

Hey, at least you had fun with your bath bomb! 

“Oh, yeah, I took your bathroom for yourself,” you avoid his gaze, feeling awkward suddenly, “You know, I probably shouldn’t do that if I think about it.”

This is why thinking is bad. Thinking leads to overthinking, overthinking leads to anxiety, and anxiety leads to waking up at three at am from nerves, so you decide to eat away the stress and end up munching crackers because you can’t be trusted with cooking. 

“You shouldn’t feel guilty,” he shakes his head, “I’m glad you are looking better. You needed it.” 

You giggle at that, raising your hands in finger guns at him. If it was not Shinsuke, you would say he raises his eyes in fond exasperation. It’s Shinsuke, though, so he just stays impassive and as cool as ever. 

“Does it mean I smelled bad?” you tease him, tapping his arm, “Oh, c’mon, that’s not the way to speak to the lady, Prime Minister.” 

“Prime Minister?” he arches his eyebrows but doesn’t comment any further on the matter, preferring to focus on the other half of your answer, “You never smell bad, [Name].” 

You would totally choke if you were eating something. You are not eating, though, thank goodness, so you don’t. 

_You never smell bad_.

That means you always smell good. You arch your eyebrows at this statement, your cheeks reddening as you take it in. That’s - that’s a dumb thing to say. It’s not the truth. No person can always smell good, but well. You can appreciate the sentiment he is trying to carry through, even if it’s objectively not the truth. 

“T-thank you,” you muffle, lowering your gaze, “T-That’s sweet of you to say.”

He stiffens next to you as if finally understanding what did he say. You hum nervously, bringing your legs to the bed and embracing them before you look back at him. For a second, Shinsuke just looks at you, stunned and very much flustered. Oh, you forgot he doesn’t take compliments very well. 

You bite your lip, hating to be the cause of his discomfort when he supported you so much today. Not really knowing what to do, you open your mouth, saying the first thing that you can think about. 

“Can you give me Waka-san’s number? Want to be sure Vlad-chan is safe.” 

That’s not so dumb to say. You are a little bit worried about Vlad and Waka. The world is dark and full of serial killers, and other psychos. Miyagi - or rather Sendai - is such a chaotic city you really wouldn’t be surprised if it was the den of thieves, murderers, and mafia.

And not even yakuza, but like Italian mafia! A little pump man in a suit and with a cigar, petting a small dog on his arm, casually ordering the death of all small, adorable little fishes. Ooh, how about that restaurant you-kind-of-burned belonged to him? He wants revenge! On your fish!

Vlad the Impaler, please be safe and impale him. 

“He sent me a message saying they made it safely home,” he nods at you curtly, his eyes returning to his work. He looks to be happy about the change of the topic, “I had already sent you his number.” 

“Thank you!” you chirp at him, clapping your hands in excitement. With that taken care of, you can shift your attention towards your companion. You lean to him, beaming the whole way, “Did you decide what you are giving your grandmother?” 

“Not yet,” he confesses, as his ears become a little bit red. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but you shrug it off, thinking he is way too invested in his crocheting. It’s not like he would hate you, right? He would tell you if you were causing a nuisance, you are pretty damn sure of that, “I’m doing something different right now.”

Hm. Would it be rude to ask? You feel like he doesn’t want to talk about it somewhat. Well, you can talk about something different. Something interesting like the treaty of Versailles! Oooh, you would love to see the documentary on World War I now. Something about the battle of Verdun? Or, or, or - 

You bop your head and grimace, as the notion still causes your neck to cry in pain. You bring your hand to it by reflex, touching the soft skin deprived of the bandages. Your face is not in band-aids as well. All of it stayed behind in your former room. It’s not like somebody is going to scold you about that now. Nobody is so stupid about such small injuries but the twins.

Atsumu, Osamu. You grimace. _Fuckers_ , you curse them in your mind, _Go away from my thoughts. I don’t care about you._ Trying to get out of your mind, you turn to Shinsuke, starting softly rambling.

“ShinShin,” you start, spinning a loose strand of your hair around a finger, “Do you like history?” 

To your surprise, his eyes narrow. You blink. What? Did - did you say something wrong? You stop playing with your hair, trying to find out what was so bizarre about your words. Is liking history illegal? No, it’s not, then what -

 _ShinShin_. 

You go through curses in all languages you know extremely fast. Way too fast. It shouldn’t be so fast. You shift back your gaze at him and at once, both of you blush furiously and look back like stupid teenagers you are. You mean, Shinsuke is not a stupid teenager, but you definitely are one! Somebody should make _How To Not Embarrass Yourself 101_ , because, gods, you need something like that. 

Way too fuck up, [Name], you chide yourself. 

“I don’t hate it.” 

His voice nearly makes you jump in fright. It comes out rushed, way too fast to be natural, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel forced out. To be honest, it’s unusual to say it about Shinsuke, but he sounds so unsure, nothing like Robo - dad Kita, the pillar that stands behind your team. 

You peer at him with the corner of your eyes. He smiles gently as if he is trying to say it’s alright. Your heart beats loudly in your chest and you become as red as him. It - it feels strangely intimate. He is not the first person you call like that, for god’s sake. Why are getting so worked up about it?! 

It-it just feels different, when it’s Shinsuke, the Prime Minister. You guess you respect him too much to even throw him in the same bag as Osamu, Atsumu, and Rintarou. Calling those idiots like that came easier. 

Why does he feel different? It’s not like you will stop calling him that, though. 

“ShinShin,” you try again. He startles a bit, opening his mouth and gazing at you breathless. You wait for the moment, but he doesn’t say anything, so you shyly lower your head, “Oh, oh, then how about - “ 

You talk to him way too much. Not about anything important or world-breaking. You are sure it’s not very interesting, you babbling about history and literature, but he listens to you, cutting in sometimes. Shinsuke, you find, knows a lot. 

He is still surprised by some facts you bring in like he didn’t know about Godzilla being a metaphor for nuclear bombing or he never heard about people making complicated plans to pass over the Berlin Wall. So he doesn’t know all the spicy stuff that you focus on, but the two are discussing events of the past nevertheless. The ramifications of peace treaties, how Romeo from Romeo and Juliet is a disgusting piece of shit, and how much the Tokyo Trial sucked. 

It’s fun. It’s so fun you are not able to say how much time has passed. You only know that Momjiro never returned, the crocheting figure Shinsuke does start to look like a small plushie, and that you are tired. 

“You are too good for me, Shinsuke,” you mumble into your palm, as you try to cover it when you yawn, “I would love to meet you earlier.” 

You are sleepy. Sleepy sleep. Sleepy-head. You giggle softly, as you rest your head on Shinsuke’s arm. You bring your fingers to your face and rub your eyes, desperately trying to stay awake. You don’t want to go to sleep, not yet, maybe never. Going to sleep means waking up tomorrow will come faster. 

You wish tomorrow would never happen. You don’t want to see Atsu, Sam or RinRin, because it will hurt. It’s not hurting now. You are safe. You are sound. You yearn to stay like this forever, time stopping just once for you. 

It’s so soothing. You yawn again, nuzzling your head against your captain. You more feel than see Shinsuke picking you up in his arms and taking you somewhere far, far away. You don’t mind. Not when his presence is so reassuring and his chest so warm. You don’t want him to let you go. It’s childish. It’s selfish. You shouldn’t be like that. He will hate you. You don’t want Shinsuke to hate you. 

He places you somewhere, causing you to stir and moan in the complaint. As if he is answering your discontent, he offers you something comfy enveloping your whole figure. It’s fluffy like marshmallows and hot like chocolate, but you still long for his soothing presence. 

“Sleep well, [Name].”

You try to say it back, but your words are sludged, incomprehensive to even your own ears. Somebody’s hand caresses your head and then the warmth leaves you, alone, in the darkness. 

_Idiots,_ you think, _Idiots, idiots, come back_.

* * *

With popular demand, there comes a mini-arc of MC being sad bean, Miya twins' suffering, and Rin who somehow found himself in that mess. It kind-of moved my plans, but I loved writing angst/comfort with a tad of crack between, because even Sad!MC is ridiculous. Soft Shinsuke is there to pick her up, though. He is a good boyo.

Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day <3


	35. Interlude: Just a Pretty Girl.

The first time Rintarou hears about Date [Name], he is in his first year of high school. It’s only the second month since school started and he already knows what sort of people Miya twins are. The walking headaches, that is. 

Later, when he finally meets her, he will wonder how they managed to not mention her earlier.

_(Later, much later, he will wonder why twins never mentioned her again.)_

“Hey, Samu, does [Name] answer to your texts?” 

He lazily lifts his head from the screen of his phone. It’s the first time he hears Atsumu mentioning _[Name]_ , but the thing that makes him curious is the tone of his voice. 

There are three fundamental truths in Suna Rintarou’s life: 

  1. Nothing, he found out early in his life, has any meaning.



You are born and then, you die. Everything you do is worthless because no matter how much you try, you will die anyway. Even if you will be remembered, how it is going to be of importance to your dead body? Why should you _try_ then? It's much easier to just give up, to let it go. Someone else should claim the glory. Someone else should win. Somebody who cares, who doesn't see the world as it is.

  1. In this blank world, volleyball is the one thing that brings him enjoyment.



It’s stupid when he thinks about it. It’s just a sport, a passing hobby. He tried so many things before: from football to baseball to basketball and rugby, swimming beside tennis. Nothing struck a chord with and so, he abandoned them one after one, to his mother’s frustration. 

“Just try, Tarou,” she begged him every time, “Maybe you will finally find something you like, something you want to do in the future.” 

_Don’t become me, forever stuck in a job that doesn’t give me any happiness_ , she left unsaid. He would roll his eyes, but send another club’s application again. 

This is something his mother didn’t know. Rintarou used to have a plan. There was the only way his life could end and she wouldn’t like the road he already decided on. 

He can’t exactly say volleyball saved him. It didn’t. What it did, though, was to give him motivation, to give him desire, to give him unquestionable need. He wanted (wants) to win. He wanted (wants) to compete. 

Something is thrilling about the way he predicts his opponents’ movements correctly, but even that can’t compare to the way satisfaction hits him the moment he makes people play to his tune. Atsumu claims all volleyball players’ are wrapped around the setter’s fingers. If so, then all the middle blockers are wrapped around his.

Trying, he knows, is worthless. Results are the only things that are significant for society, and even they are nothing against the death that awaits any human. 

He tries anyway. 

  1. People are really easy to read when you know what to look for. 



Even if their faces are carefully stripped of emotions, their bodies cannot be stilled. Small gestures are deadly if you can perceive them. Tapping finger. Shifting shoulders. Quivering in the lip. Wrinkle appearing next to the nose. 

Humans have an unnatural urge to keep moving. And Rintarou can see it, can understand it. Sometimes he likes to predict what a person wants to say before they do so. He is not always right. Just most of the time. 

There is no perfect liar. 

This is why he knows Atsumu may act like every stuck-up big volleyball player, but he cares deeply. Not about things average people are concerned about, of course, but about his brother, about his reputation, and volleyball. And it seems [Name], whoever that may be, is also included on his list. 

“What the fuck did you say to make her angry _again_?” comes Osamu’s tired voice. “I’m not apologizing on your behalf. Stop being such an asshole to her already, Tsumu.” 

“I did nothing wrong!” he yells in his defense. Rin narrows his eyes at him, just like Ginjima and Osamu do, none of them believing in words he keeps spewing out. At that, he crosses his arms around his chest, pouting like a child, “Seriously! What is with you, jerks?!”

“Yeah, because she would just not answer,” Osamu rolls his eyes, “Wow, Tsumu, you know the person for nine years and still don’t know a fuck about her.” 

The first time he hears of Date [Name], he doesn’t care. He brings his phone up, filming the incoming fight, not concerned about the person they are talking about. He doesn’t even want to know the person who endured with them nine years and lives to tell the story. 

The next day, both of them are absent. The next week, they stop attending volleyball practice. The next month, he sees both of them rushing out of the classroom the moment the bell rings, acting as if the world would fall if they didn’t leave the school the moment they could. 

Well, he knows at least that feeling. 

* * *

_What is with this sassy lost child?_

The girl in Osamu’s arms swears bloody murder under her breath at demons, curses more than the better twin, and probably would gouge their eyes out if she thought she would get away with it. That whole package of issues comes wrapped in the silhouette of the girl so small he questions her age at least four times. 

Should girls in high school be so short? He goes through the mental list of the girls he dated. They were shorter than him, but never as much as _that_. 

“Let me go, _Miya - san_ ,” she blows out of her mouth, stressing her last words. You would think the twins’ last name is a curse by the way she speaks it. 

Both Osamu and Atsumu look heartbroken at that, scrambling after her, trying to soothe whatever anger she feels, acting so pathetic he can’t help but call them _Simps_ in his mind over and over again. Out of everybody here, he never expected them to act like that. Osamu never even looked at another human being with any sort of appreciation, while Atsumu behaved like an asshole to every girl he met. 

The way they react to it can be only called overaction. He wishes he could film this shit. What a splendid material, but his phone battery is dead already. His classmates started a fight in the class - something stupid, about Alexandrian Library. He couldn’t help himself, which left his phone back in the changeroom, charging. 

It takes him exactly 0.3 seconds to realize why they act this way. The Miya twins don’t view as only a childhood friend. _There is no way_. Both look smitten, worshipping the ground on which she steps over. To be honest, it’s pretty disgusting how in love with her they appear to be. 

He glances at her with the corner of the eye when Kita starts his Ice King routine. Whatever they see in her, he can’t find it. She makes him think of a little angry animal. Chihuahua, maybe. Just barking and barking, never shutting up, but somehow utterly _adorable_ even as she calls Atsumu a _filthy manwhore_.

* * *

The angry animal is a _Naruto_ fan. Just like Sumire and the rest of the brats. There is no escape from this hell. If he had any will to live, it would be lost now. The day can’t become any worse - 

And she becomes their manager, _for some reason_. 

Wait, he knows the reason. It starts with M and ends with A. As if ditching practices for the whole year was not enough for them already, they always have to do something stupid. Now, with their little helper, they are worse. They are already bad enough on their own and now, there are three of them to deal with. Fights were bad? Ugh. You should see the PDA. 

Why did he decide to leave Nagoya, again? Even he is not so obnoxious with Aiko and that girl has a serious problem with personal space.

* * *

He didn’t expect Date [Name] to be Atsumu’s miraculous savior who will make all the homework disappear, but he probably should. They can’t stay away from her for the seconds, the absolute smitten idiots. It’s a little bit endearing, coming from such awful people. 

_Aww, they can feel positive emotion towards another human being_ , he thinks sarcastically. He sighs, peering at her with the corner of his eye. He doesn’t know what they see in her. Seriously. He is pretty sure they could have anybody they wanted, no matter the gender. He hears the way the students talk about them. 

He once asked Osamu about that. 

“Why the hell should I date anyone?” came the lethargic answer, as he leaned his face on his hand, “Not even one person can even compare to my childhood friend.” 

“So you are dating your childhood friend?”

“Lame, Sunarin,” the calmer twin twisted his lips in disgust, his eyes boring the holes into Rintarou’s head, “I don’t want to be her fucking boyfriend. Don’t need to.” 

He dared to say something like that when he is a lovesick puppy. _Are you an idiot? Yes, you are._ They would probably make a good couple. Two idiots, together. 

Why exactly her? What is the mystery of Date [Name]? She is not Rin’s type and he can’t see what they like about her so much. He wouldn’t call her ugly, because she is cute. But that’s it. She is like a little bunny, an endearing animal that bites way too hard. As he said, a lot of more attractive girls and boys would do anything to be in her place, and yet they don’t look at anyone else. They only see her. 

She seems to be a too needy person if the way she clings to them is any indication. Not to ever say the shit she says. Murders, serial killers, history. She can drone about it forever and Rintarou can’t even pretend he is interested in that. At least she is not one of their groupies and can call them on their bullshit. Or rather call Atsumu on his bullshit. More people need to do that. 

_So, what’s your deal, Date?_

She is holding Osamu’s notebook, writing excitedly about history or science, or whatever, being way too happy about something so troublesome. Annoyingly adorable. A hum escapes from her mouth, as she boops her head, looking completely at the ease. She always looks like that next to them. As if nothing in the world could ever hurt them, as long as they were near. 

He passed her once in the corridor and she was pale, clenching her fists. She didn’t even see him, stressed-out and anxious. He may or may not told Osamu that his precious princess needed a rescue and the dumb-ass didn’t even look back as he darted off. 

Must be nice, being so trusting. 

Offering her some food to do his homework is easy. It’s better than doing it by himself and she is too pleased about the whole endeavor, making him think she would do it for free. Well, his loss. Whatever. At least he can stay lying on the floor and not doing anything. 

He closes his eyes, concentrating on his breath, and answering sparingly. He is content just feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. Thinking, he knows, is deadly. Thinking means planning, judging, evaluating. Thinking means remembering embarrassing things he did years ago. Rintarou doesn’t want to do any of that, doesn’t want to feel stress thickening around his throat and exhaustion around his wrist. The inescapable void of boredom, of worthlessness that encompasses every person’s life, seems to be too close and too far at the same time. 

It’s better to just forget it. It’s better to ignore it. He has one thing in his life that he loves: volleyball. That’s enough. That should be enough.

(He is scared of the day he will no longer do.)

Obtaining a heart desire rarely makes anyone happy. Now that we possess this one thing, we want more. Sometimes, the old men from ages long gone are right. Schopenhauer preached that no person can be ever satisfied. It’s true, he knows. It’s the reason he started dating. It’s the reason that he tries different things sometimes. He still wants, no matter how empty and boring his life is. 

“Call me [Name], Naruto – kun. “

“Huh?”

He opens his eyes suddenly, not expecting the words that fell through her lips. He looks up and for a second he sees only _her_. 

The wind flows the [color] hair in the air. She leans to him, smiling mischievously, as she doesn’t seem to mind the tornado her curls become. He doesn’t hear the words, too mesmerized by the image before him. 

When Rintarou was five years old, he took a paper piece and watched it burn from the candle’s light. The destructive force of nature, both terrifying and pretty. A phenomenon for him back then. Irrational. Strange.

Just like her. 

She is vulgar and adorable. She is aggressive and meek at the same time. Everything about her is bizarre and unlogical, and yet endearing. She is a fire, wildfire and for a moment, he is an arsonist, who cannot get enough of the inferno happening before him. He wants more.

“And I will be calling you Rin – kun.”

He blinks, surprised to hear his name roll off her tongue. _Rin - kun_. She is not the first person to call him that, but somehow it sounds different coming from her. He - it’s stupid thought but wishes to hear her say it more. Just one more time. Maybe two. Or forever - 

"No deal.”

She grins at him boldly. He wants nothing more than to lean and kiss the smile off her face.

* * *

He breaks up with Aiko the next day.

He does it over text, not even bothering to meet her. So, predictably, she finds him on the long break in the classroom as he tries to sleep. It takes a single glance to deduce his ex is upset and he should be happy that she didn’t slap him the moment she stepped over the doors. 

She stops before him, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“ _Rintarou_ ,” she says in a tone that spells trouble for future Rin. Suna wouldn’t like to be in his skin, but he already is.

The meme on his phone very accurately shows his current situation. 

“I told you at the start that I don’t care about you,” he sighs, not even raising his head from his phone, moving his thumb to upvote the said meme, “You said it’s okay. Why are we having this conversation.” 

He makes sure to make his voice as uninterested and bored as ever. She doesn’t have to know that he is dreading this moment. Aiko is not a bad person, no matter how much he likes to complain about her. 

He agreed to date her because she _was_ his type. She is tall, standing just a few centimeters below him, meaning he didn’t have to lean down to kiss her. Her hair is short, carefully maintained as demanded from the girls’ volleyball team’s coach, so he didn’t have to worry about pulling it accidentally. She also isn’t annoying, though she liked to touch him way too much in public places. 

She is not the ex-girlfriend from hell. She didn’t mind his practices - as she had her own - and was fine with lazy dates at his dorm. She also got along with hellish brats, even teaching them a little bit of volleyball. Not that it mattered to them in the end, as they just wanted more drama in his life specifically. 

If she was awful, Rin wouldn’t date her in the first place, no matter how attractive she is. Their relationship was _okay_. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“It’s our six month anniversary in two weeks,” she snaps back as if it is something he should know, “We were together for six months and you break up with me _over the phone_ , Rin.” 

He grimaces. He doesn’t want her to call him that. Date’s annoying voice is integrated into his brain now and every time somebody dubs him with that title he thinks of her. And that’s not something he wants to. 

His stupid mind already is transfixed on the girl. He doesn’t need more reasons to reminisce about the way her way-too-big shirt encompassed her whole figure or about her neck, slender and elegant, or about her smile, twinkling with mischievousness and joy, or about how her eyes sparkled with fire. 

_He does it again._ He probably should spend the next lesson contemplating nature or some shit, because he cannot get her out of his head. 

“Don’t call me that. It’s disgusting coming from you,” he deadpans, rubbing his neck awkwardly. 

“Rin - Rintarou!” she yells out in the response, scandalized. He doesn’t even blink, shamelessly waiting for her to continue. Her posture deflates, as she exhales slowly, her lips curling in dismay, “You truly don’t have a heart, do you?”

“Probably,” he lets his head fall on the desk, “All of me is dead, you know that. Is that the moment you slap me, call me a bastard, and turn around majestically?”

She probably should. He deserves it. If somebody treated Sumire like that, he knows he would slap the asshole himself and maybe even let the twins out on him. 

“Why?”

He furrows his eyebrows. He expected the question, of course, he did, but it is still doesn’t make it any easier. 

“Found somebody,” he tells the half-truth swiftly, not wanting to explain that finding somebody didn’t mean he found a new date. He doesn’t even want to flirt with Date. He is not crushing on her, just thinking she is not ugly, “Didn’t think it’s fair to you.” 

He yawns as he awaits her answer. That’s the biggest problem. Maybe if he still was in a relationship with Aiko, he would probably forget about Date with time, but until then it would be cruel to her. Thinking about one girl, while kissing the other sounds hectic. What if he forgot himself one time and the name that came out of his mouth wouldn’t belong to Aiko? 

That was such a problematic perspective that he didn’t have a choice. 

“But it’s fair to break up over the text?”

“Well, it made you come all this way.” 

Her laugh sounds like a sob.

* * *

“Brother Tarou!” Sumire yells just next to his ear, making him grimace visibly. She is undeterred in the slightest, as she shoves something into his hands, “You never said you have a girl in the team!”

He should be born the only child.

_He should be born the only child._

It’s his team’s Twitter account. Of course, they found it already - wait, aren’t they too young for it? He googles the age limit for the app quickly. Fourteen, says The Almighty Internet. None of them is fourteen. He narrows his eyes dangerously, eyeing the hellions sharply.

“Since when any of you is allowed to have Twitter?”

Maya and Kayo are better kids than his sister ever could be, so they look away, embarrassed. On the other hand, Sumire doesn’t have any shame whatsoever, so she scowls before pointing at her phone in the answer. He sighs, glancing over and seeing the photo of his team taken days ago.

Date [Name] is on it because she is their manager, but try to explain it to drama-hungry children. 

He should just stay at Amagasaki. Why did he decide to return to Nagoya again? Ah, yes, his mother asked him to. Doesn’t she ever get too tired with so many brats around? He knows his father doesn’t, but that man has so much energy that Rin questions day after day if they are related. 

“Yes, yes!” Kayo starts to bounce excitedly, determining they are not getting in trouble for now, “Is she your new girlfriend, Brother Tarou?!” 

“She is!” Maya proclaims, nodding furiously, “We finally see her on the photo.” 

“You met my girlfriend, you stupid brats,” he points up, sighing heavily, “You followed us on our date.” 

“But didn’t you break up with her?!”

“Does it mean I have to get a new one?” he questions dryly. They nod affirmatively at that and he has to fight the urge to facepalm, “Now get lost before I tattle at you to the mom.”

They gasp, betrayed, before Sumire hastily takes her phone and all of them dart off, presumedly to do something stupid and dangerous. He sighs. 

God, the Miya twins would skin him alive if they heard his sister and cousins talking about Date being his girlfriend. Both of them are so hopelessly in love with her it makes him want to gag. No girl, no matter how good-looking or adorable, is worth the trouble of competing with _those two_.

* * *

What he feels is not something childish like a crush. Rin doesn’t get crushes, not really. It’s nothing more than lust. She’s something new and fascinating, and he wants to know about her. If he understands her better, he will become bored and find a prettier girl that doesn’t have hell guardians next to her.

It doesn’t change much how he treats her, though he doesn’t ignore her as much. Her company is not the worst thing in the world. It’s even enjoyable when she is no screeching like a banshee. She is funny and oblivious as hell, insulting people with him with ease of professional judgemental bitch. She finds pride in the stupidest things and doesn’t mind the dumb shit their team is all about. Not to even say a word about her nonexistent logic. 

Everything about her is cute. 

The way she wrinkles her nose in disgust. The way she brings her finger to her mouth when she is in deep wonder. When she tugs one of the twins or how excitable she gets with every spike.

 _Nice murder_. Isn’t it endearing how much those two words make her? Every time he hears it, accompanied with a clap of her hands, he somehow wants to try more. He doesn’t, not really, too much work. 

The time that he used to look and not see anything else but a cute little animal disappears soon and he finds his eyes sticking to her a lot of time. He likes looking at her. Probably too much. He likes glancing at her neck and her lips. He likes the way her eyes sparkle and the way her smile can light up her whole face. He even likes seeing her in those oversized clothes, at least until he understands that those don’t belong to her. They belong to Osamu and Atsumu. 

The first time he heard about that particular revelation, he couldn’t help the thought of her in his shirt, which of course led his thoughts to the lovely picture of her removing it - or better yet, _him helping her_ in that endeavor. Needless to say, he was very glad none of them can read his mind. He is pretty sure they wouldn’t leave his body to be ever found if they knew what situation he imagined their _precious childhood friend_ to be in. 

Everything about her says that she belongs to them. With them. That’s okay. Rintarou doesn’t plan to ever interfere with their relationship, doesn’t even plan to get close to her. 

And then he is guilted into being her friend.

 _You have done fucked it up_ , he thinks, not having even trying to resist more than sending a scathing remark. It’s not like he is even going to win against the force of combined powers of both her and the twins. 

(And if part of him is happy about this development, he ignores it.)

* * *

Aiko was not Rintarou’s first girlfriend and she is not his last. He started dating in middle school, since the time he got confessed to for the first time. This is not something he is ashamed about, but his friends used to call him a _player_ , even though he never saw himself as one. It was true he had a lot of girlfriends.

Too many girlfriends. 

Does he have to embarrassed about his need to have a partner to hook up with? He likes kissing, he likes cuddling, he likes lazy mornings spent in his dormitory. The void in his mind never goes away, but the warmth that belongs to another’s person embrace eases it, makes it more bearable for the time. 

In a time it became something like looking for the perfect club - searching for the girl who didn’t bore him, who didn’t annoy him, who could stay with him forever. Even the ones that interested him in the beginning, ended up becoming more than a nuisance than anything. 

Finding somebody attractive is hard for him. He knows he is a demanding person for someone so lazy and exhausted all the time, but he tries his best to behave even when there are no feelings involved. There are a lot of pet-peeves he doesn’t like. 

And this is where his attraction towards [Name] comes in. Admitting to finding a girl like _Date_ _[Name]_ magnetic should be hard and yet, it’s not at all. He can’t believe he finds her obliviousness and stupidy adorable. He really can’t. 

Before her, he didn’t even think he could find a girl like that alluring, but here he is, well too aware of her walking just next to him. Well too aware of his heart playing some cringe romantic music, commanding him to _Kiss the girl_. Even discounting things like appearance, her character shouldn’t keep him coming for now. 

He is not in love.

His eyes see all of her faults without the problem and yet, he doesn’t mind how ill-tempered she is. How pushy and needy. How she is oblivious as hell. What hell is wrong with him? 

His stupid one brain cell thinks of her as _endearing_. That’s so cheesy. Disgusting. What the hell is wrong with him, again? She is just so kind. She is just so funny. She makes him fight the urge to smile every fucking second. And her voice, _her voice_. Where is the screaming banshee? When did she become the siren? 

Not to say about her other _valours_. 

He means he may have a size kink. He just didn’t know about it for all of his life. It doesn’t make _sense at all_ , he specifically dated tall girls in to not lean towards them. Kissing like that seemed uncomfortable, so why the hell he wanted nothing more than do that to this little gremlin girl? He just wants to smother her with affection and hide in his jacket. She would look awfully good in it. He does his best to imagine her _only in his jacket_. 

So yeah. Kita. Kita. Yeah. She works on Kita like a charm, letting him get away with skipping the practice. Her voice is _nice_ , more than nice, and he doesn’t mind the way she always smells like cinnamon. _He is not even a fan of the cinnamon._

The world is full of pretty girls, but he knows he doesn’t feel such passion for other ones. He knows it too well. If he was not friends with twins, he would probably schedule a date with her in the coming months. If she was not _friends_ with twins, he would probably already ask her out. 

Offering to go with to the vending machine is calculated action. Or rather, him testing a theory - and who would though, Kita, the robot without any emotions, is completely whipped. It would be embarrassing if it was not so useful. For now, he found a sure way to avoid sweating. He shouldn’t be surprised Atsumu misunderstood the situation. He should be only surprised his head is still attached to the rest of his body. 

There is no way he will fight twins’ overprotectiveness. He is their friend, no matter how he would never admit it aloud and they love her so desperately he thinks they would break if she ever tried to date someone else. 

It’s for their sake - and [Name]’s as well, of course - that he caught her when she was falling. It’s for their sake - and her as well, and of course because Shittykawa is more annoying than a mosquito flying over his head in the middle of the night - that he stood in front of her when the louse of the setter tried to hit on her. 

Her shoulder bumps into his. Or rather into his arm. He curses under his breath. It seems he may have a size kink after all. This is not what he thought he will discover on this trip. What a pretty, but annoying girl.

“Not like that, you know. You look way too cool to be an older sibling.” 

_Cool_? He feels his mind going into a panic mood, trying to cover how much her remark flusters him. His ears are to

There is nothing about [Name] that is not making his blood flow faster. That’s embarrassing to think about. It’s embarrassing to be around her. He knows she is not flirting, no matter how much he would like her to. For someone so dense and dumb, she is surprisingly smooth. 

“What is this supposed to mean?” he asks in complete deadpan, “Did I unlock your traumatic backstory?” 

“Maybe.”

Who the fuck hurt you? What is that supposed to mean? Couldn’t you be more helpful once? He wants to ask for more, wants to know all that makes her sad, and keep it away, but he is not a dumbass. He can’t - _he will do everything in his power_ to never see her hurt. 

Only as a friend, though. Of course as a friend. 

Her wrist is so small he holds all of it with just two fingers. It feels so delicate and fragile under his touch he can’t help if his dead heart pumps the rhythm of this stupid music ever louder. He has size kink now, damn it. Maybe this is why his relationships get boring so fast - all the girls he dated were too damn tall for his degenerate self. 

She is just a pretty girl. 

He shouldn’t behave like that.

* * *

The strange surge of protectiveness comes from nowhere. Just like it did the moment that net fell. Okay, so maybe he lied about saving her for the sake of the twins, but - it’s not like he understands the feeling in his chest. He thinks about her way too much, he looks at her way too much, he wants to become closer and closer -

Okay, maybe, he is crushing on her. 

That’s not what he should think about now. Not when the rotten, salty stick looks so damn proud of himself for bullying his pretty girl. Not when she looks so _wrong_. Her whole figure is listless, her eyes are vacant, and suddenly she seems to be empty of any emotion. 

_Who the fuck is that thot to terrorize her? Fucking get away from here before I punch your stupid face of -_

* * *

He didn’t punch anyone. 

He still kinda wishes he did. The thot deserved it, but he prioritized getting her away from him. She looked better, but he took the kid with him too, just in case. He wouldn’t know what to do if she started crying and any help would be more appreciated. He looked he needed to talk to her anyway. 

He doesn’t let the sigh fall from his lips. Just. He can’t tell Osamu or Atsumu about it. They will kill the bitch. Not that he doesn’t deserve to die, but they still kind of need them in the team. And [Name] would probably cry if they murdered somebody without her.

So he takes his fruit jelly stick and tries his best to ignore the loud thing screaming about volleyball. Is it blind? He is not interested in whatever it is selling. Go with your hyper-active drugs somewhere else. He tries his best to zone in, not wanting to hear whatever it will say back. 

“What are we even doing here?” [Name]’s sweet voice cuts in and Rin couldn’t be more grateful until her next words leave her mouth, “It’s cold. So cold. I’m cold, RinRin.”

“I have no idea. Suffering, probably. I took the normal one because he would probably die if he didn’t apologize to you or something?”

He took her here because he didn’t want to see her so lifeless. And it made her cold. Where is gratitude, little bunny? He sighs and offers her his jacket. Look at him, playing all gentleman, just because he likes a girl.

“Here.”

Instantly, he thinks of kindergarten. Girls have cooties. He shouldn’t like them. Just date them. What do you even do with crushes? Ignore them until the day you die? Sounds like a good idea. 

“No, no, no, shit, RinRin! What about you?! You are an idiot! You are going to be sick!”

This is why nice guys finish last. She is practically trembling, but she still doesn’t want to take it? Why is she thinking about him when she looks like she is about to die from hypothermia? He rolls his eyes. 

“I crave death, [Name]. And I’m not trembling even like that, not like somebody else. So stop being cute and take it, before I throw up. Ugh. So gross.” 

He then proceeds to throw his jacket over her shoulders. 

She locks his eyes with hers and hurls it at him. Stubborn, little gremlin! He can see why exactly she is the twins’ best friend. They are just as chaotic and awful. Oh, they deserve each other. 

She is so fucking pretty his heart can’t take it. It’s going to explode, he is going to die and it’s going to be her fault. 

“You are so fucking dumb.” 

He doesn’t even hear her next words, too enamored by the gesture. How could a world so cruel and bleak create somebody so beautiful, so good? 

“I hate you so much,” he whispers, as he slides into his jacket back. She still trembles, but at the same time, she looks so satisfied, so proud of herself that he wants to kiss her again and again until her laughs break through her lips, until she giggles, until she moans his name out, until she murmurs _stop, we’re not alone_. 

_Why can’t you belong to me, you pretty girl?_

“I try to be nice once. It doesn't work. Never again.”

Not that he would have a chance to be alone with her, without Osamu and Atsumu ever again. Not that he should take such a chance. Having a crush changes nothing. She is still theirs and it’s painful to think about it. 

He is suddenly glad he is not a person who falls in love easily. It would hurt so much more to let her go if he loved her, all of her stupid and adorable quirks. 

“That’s part of your charm,” he says, sticking his tongue out. Maybe he should be more serious about it. Maybe then, she would understand. Who is he kidding? He could confess right now and she wouldn’t. 

He tries not to smile at her softly. 

_Stop making me want you more, you adorable idiot._

* * *

For someone so well-versed with the world, she really is too mellow. She is going to get hurt. Just look at the kid, he looks ready to devour her whole. He doesn’t like it. Who the fuck is that kid? He, who is even more oblivious than fucking Atsumu? Where did he come from anyway? Why does she touch him so tenderly? Yes, his story is super sad, who-fucking-cares. She shouldn’t just take the kid’s hands and steal his heart like nothing. 

_She doesn’t hold his hands._

Jealousy. He is actually jealous. That - that’s feeling is hectic. He starts to hate his life even more. 

* * *

He is going to fault the kid for what he is doing. He is going to blame the jealousy he provoked. It’s not fair, truly, for the kid to get so much of her attention, to hold hands with her. Rin knows her longer. Probably. Even if he didn’t, it still wouldn’t be fair for Kageyama Tobio to steal her away. 

It’s nothing too serious, he doesn’t want to hurt her. He just calls her a pretty girl. She is pretty, she should know it, she should hear it every day. She looks so _red_ before she hides her face. Adorable. Is there anything she does that is not adorable? 

He is not challenging the Miya twins, no matter what Atsumu thinks. She is still off-limits, she is still theirs, but if she can talk like that to that kid, why can’t he say something nice to her once a while? It still feels like the stupidest thing he ever did. It feels also exhilarating. He can tease them and see this enchanting face of [Name]. Atsumu going to be a little kid, but the reward is worth the trouble it will cause. 

He is flirting with her, not even trying to be subtle. Not hiding. This what you normally do with crushes. Nothing too deep, nothing too much. Light teasing, the one nobody can ever refute. He instantly feels a death glare coming from Atsumu as if he just shouted the words. He cocks his head, grinning widely, daring him to.

* * *

It’s just a crush. 

Why the fuck seeing her so sad makes him want to punch the asshole that caused such an expression to appear on her pretty face when he was the one to hurt her? She was supposed to _blush._ That endearing expression, the one only he can cause her to make. Why is she so - 

He wanted to protect her, god damn it, he knew she would get angry, but he thought one flower would make her melt. Would make her happy, not ever angrier and hurt. It just - the kid, the stupid kid, had to give her flowers. 

Jealousy smells like burn flowers, tastes like a bitter pill on his tongue, and sounds like an unspoken cry in her voice. 

He stares at her back. 

_It’s just a crush._

* * *

Rin, go to the horny jail.


	36. In which some people don't have a shame (and others think way too much about Caesar).

“[Name].” 

You groan, embracing your hairy pillow even tighter to your chest. You don’t want to wake up and the voice _makes_ you. Stupid voice. Doesn’t it know the only thing your half-asleep mind can think of is _five more minutes_? 

You are just too warm. Too comfortable. It’s too nice to wake up and greet the cruel reality you live in. You want to stay tucked in, your pillow, and blanket your only loyal companions. Goodbye, Mr. Voice, go fuck yourself. 

“[Name], _please_.”

Fine, fine, fine, whatever! You are so going to kick that person in - 

_Oh_. 

You are greeted by Shinsuke’s unnatural red face. You blink at him slowly. Very slowly. One second. Two. Three. Nope, you don’t know what he does in your arms. Or rather what _you_ are doing clutching him tightly to your chest. Does it matter? Nope. You yawn. You don’t want to kick him, so it means you can go back to sleep. You bat your eyelids before closing them again, leaning your face into his soft hair. You take in a deep breath and find that he smells fresh, like orange and - 

Wait. 

_Wait._

Your pillow is Shinsuke. Shinsuke is your pillow. Is hugging a Prime Minister without his consent a crime? Wait. That’s stupid. Hugging anyone without their consent is a crime. Reality dawns on you with a resounding _boom_ in your brain. Your mind just explodes, as you are finally able to comprehend what is happening.

You are hugging Shinsuke. No, scratch that, you are smothering him to your chest. You open your eyes and gaze onto his red, red face. 

“[Name].” 

His voice sounds different when he is so close. Much deeper. Huh. Nice discovery, [Name]. 

Fuck!

You release him suddenly, shuffling away so fast you nearly fall from the bed. Nearly. Shinsuke is fast to catch you by taking hold of your wrist and pulling you closer to his chest, and well, fuck, this is exactly what you tried to escape from. You try your best not to scream, be it from panic or embarrassment, as you reflexively look to him for guidance. 

He gazes right back at you, his brown eyes locked into yours as the two try to figure what the fuck you are supposed to do in a situation like this.

A - are you supposed to apologize? You don’t even know how you found yourself in that position. Okay, maybe you felt needy and slipped into his bed? Okay, that sounds plausible, but you don’t remember doing anything like this! Why. Did. This. Happen. How. Did. This. Happen.

Satan has abandoned you. It’s the only conclusion your mind can come to. It’s the only one that makes sense! This is why your life is nothing but misery in the last days. Wait, the last days, Miyagi. _Gods, Washijo blackmailed Satan into abandoning you_. 

Is that how Caesar felt when he saw Decimus and Brutus in his last moments? And now you want to cry because you remember Caesar’s death. Damn you, Washijo. 

The door suddenly opens and a cheerful voice greets the two of you.

“Hey, Shinsuke, [Name] - san, I’m back - “

You try your best not to move a muscle. Maybe he will not see the two of you. Maybe he will think you are sleeping. Maybe he will just leave - 

“Oh, sorry, did I interrupt anything?” 

This time, you do scream as you sit up, pointing your finger at him as the panic starts to take hold of your body. You don’t like his tone! You don’t like it all! He sounds - he sounds - you can’t help it, you cover your face with your palms, blushing widely.

“You are one to talk, mom!” you accuse him, your cheeks being super warm under your touch. You don’t want to even think what is on his dirty, dirty mind, “Where the fuck have you been the whole night? Are you cheating on dad?”

“You mean daddy?” 

You nearly hear the suggestive smile in his words. Your mind fucking breaks as he speaks. _D-daddy?! What does the fuck that mean?! T-this is so, so wrong!_ You scream again as you abandon your nonexistent dignity and take the pillow near you. You hurl it at him, without any shame or regret. He doesn’t dodge it, probably not expecting violence. 

That’s stupid of him. Violence always fixes every problem. Oh, it didn’t fix yours? You used too little of it. More violence! More murders! More arsons! 

It hits straight into his stupid face and then falls, leaving him looking stunned. Good. Did he think you wouldn’t? You don’t hesitate to fight even moms. Moms are scary, so they must be fought with twice the ferocity and determination. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” you threaten him, taking the next pillow, ready to fire the missile if he tries to open his mouth again, “You idiot, idiot, idiot!” 

You are so creative with your insults in the morning. Atsumu - You mean somebody would be proud of you. Not that you would like for them to be proud of you, damn it. Deranged orangutans, destroying everything you care about. 

Feeling a sudden spike of rage and sadness, you throw a pillow at him again. This time, though, he is ready and catches it easily enough. He glances at you with tiredness that he normally addresses twins with. That makes you _smadder_ , so you start to search for the next pillow. 

“Why are you so aggressive?!” Ojiro questions, shaking the pillow he still holds in his hand, “I was just joking! Just joking! I’m a good comedian!” 

“Well, your joke was stupid and inappropriate, and I hated it. Whoever said it was an awful liar and should burn in hell.” you huff, your cheeks puffing out in anger and hate, “You are my senpai. You are supposed to be better!” 

You cross your hands around your chest, cock your face and wait for him to apologize. He doesn’t. Fucker, just standing there and not even looking at you. That’s super rude. You are talking to him! 

The blankets next to you still and you see the Prime Minister himself sitting up. Welp, you forgot how close the two were just minutes ago, but now, you _remember_. You would rather not. Jesus Christ, where are you when your little sheep need you? Are you playing Avatar? _When his people needed them the most, he disappeared._

Shinsuke looks to be - well, if he was not secretly a robot, you would say he looks to be angry. Or irritated. Or even worse, like every father you ever had (that’s the staggering number of one if you don’t count Kita) he seems to be disappointed.

_I’m not angry, just disappointed._

But that’s the worst! 

Thank goodness, his disapproval is not directed at you. He brings death and despair unto Ojiro and your mom gulps audibly, stiffening his posture. Sorry, mom, but you kind of agree with Shinsuke. That means your anger is righteous and good according to the law of the universe because _Shinsuke Kita can never be wrong™_ corporation ruled so.

“Aran,” you hear the frosty voice of Kita Shinsuke himself, “We will talk later.”

That sounds like a promise of five years of hard labor in Siberia. Super scary things. You are very glad that Shin doesn’t look at you like that. You wouldn’t be able to survive in Siberia, you have trouble living in Japan in April. 

Aran, to give credit where it is due, doesn’t faint on the spot. He blinks, sniffs very loudly, and nods curtly before he starts to take a step behind, retreating like a coward. You are finally able to get another pillow, so you get ready to attack him again. He stops immediately, raising his hands in defeat. 

Good, good. This war was a success. 

But that still doesn’t answer the question of - 

“[Name],” you glance with the corner of your eye on Shinsuke, who already decided to leave the bed. He doesn’t even look at you, as he stands up, “You woke up in the middle of the night and joined me on the floor. I tried to help you back to the bed and you tugged me with you and refused to let go.”

Uh-uh, that sounds like you. Kinda. The thing is: you don’t remember it. Were you sleep-walking? Because that, dear sir, that sounds _awesome_. And highly unusual. You never heard about anybody even mentioning that you sleep-walk. Were you so desperate for affection? You remember thinking about being cold and wanting Osamu or Atsumu to cuddle you, but - 

You release the pillow, bringing your index finger to your mouth and completely ignoring Momjiro for now. That’s very clingy, even for you. Can you do other things in sleep too? Like, maybe taking spoons and forks, and leaving complicated symbols on the wall for people to find? They - and your awakened self - would be so confused. 

This plan is so devious. The twins would - 

Don’t think about them, damn it. 

“So take that smile out of your face, Aran.” 

You blink. What smile? Lifting your head, you gaze back to Ojiro, and yeah, he smiling quite boldly as if he did accomplish something great. So satisfied over what? Seriously, what? You thought he was supposed to be the mature one. Why did he leave, what did he plot, what is even happening?! 

You look to Shinsuke’s back as he moves towards the bathroom. Is he angry at you? He has every right to be. It seems you woke him up and made him super uncomfortable. And he didn’t even moan about any of that.

He is so kind. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest. 

“I don’t remember any of this,” you muffle into your shirt, lowering your gaze in shame, “Sorry, ShinShin.”

Shinsuke’s steps stop echoing in the room. You lift your head, praying to Ancient Gods he is not angry, but to your surprise, he doesn’t look at you. He looks straight onto Ojiro whose smile is so wide you are surprised it fits on his face. 

_“Aran.”_

The smiling stops.

_“Let’s talk outside.”_

You shiver. It is so cold suddenly that you have to cover yourself with the blanket from your bed. Where did that arctic wind come from? Nuclear winter is coming, it seems. You tap your fingers on the mattress as the door is tightly shut. 

_Is that a scream?_

You ignore it. For your sanity and humanity at large, it’s better to ignore that. With Shinsuke and Ojiro (and cold wind) out of the way, you put your hands in the air, stretching them before a sigh leaves your mouth. 

Tomorrow has come. You let yourself fall to the bed dramatically, even though there is nobody to see you now. The world still exists, there was not a fallen star killing you all, no aliens attacked in the night (that’s because they don’t exist, and if they do, they have better things than build pyramids on some backwater planet). You are going to see the Miya twins and Suna. 

The world still sucks and you don’t want to even imagine what is going to happen. 

You don’t want to. That’s the problem with going to the same school as them, though. You are not in the same grades, that’s true, but you can’t avoid them when you are on the same trip. Gottverdammich. Maybe you really should try that Argentina plan.

How are you even supposed to feel now? You look at the ceiling. The ceiling doesn’t answer. Ceiling sucks. The floor is the way from now on. You try to poke the wound, making yourself reminiscent of the events of yesterday, and instantly regret it. 

The mad part of your _smad_ disappeared during the night, it seems, leaving you to feel only the sadness, which means it’s time to fucking stand up and clean your teeth. That won’t do. That won’t do at all. 

A soft melody leaves your mouth, as you try to cheer yourself. It’s nothing cool. Not _Hamilton_ , not _Naruto_ ’s opening, or _Avril Lavigne_. It’s just a lullaby in English. Just simple _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_. You used to sing it a lot when you were younger to yourself at night before you met twins.

It does make you a little bit better, so you crawl off the bed and to your bag. Today is the day you wear black, you decide as search through your bag. Only black. Nothing, but black. _Everything black_. Okay, maybe your socks with little pizzas will be there as well, but you are going to make sure nobody sees them. You find them easily enough and a giggle interferes with your song. 

You have to be ready for the funeral.

So, getting a choker as well! If you have one with yourself. You got some very cheaply online, but you are not sure if you took one with you. You are not a fan of wearing jewelry every day. Chokers are awesome, though. A necklace named after a murderer that smothers people? Sing you the hell up. 

And next to the choker, you are going to wear all black. [Name] goes all goth. And the thing about goth clothes? They have the best T-Shirts. Things that are written on them are gold. Pure gold that was probably stolen by Spanish conquistadors several ages ago. _Sell your soul_ , _Burn in hell_ , _Your soul was delicious_ , _Kill Your Enemies,_ or just straight-up the middle finger of the _skeleton_. Whoever designed such wonderful messages has to be a genius. There is a different charm in them than in your cute ones with little foxes, kittens, strawberries, or dinosaurs.

They are war outfits. 

So it’s really sad to find the only goth thing you packed up was a crop tee. It is still black and beautiful with the words _Memento Mori_ written in a hauntingly beautiful font, but - Do you have any high waisted trousers or skirts with you? You touch the side of your tummy and can’t help hissing like an angry cat from the sting. Not going to happen without something that can hide that. 

It takes you a second, but you can find something which will help you in your propaganda program. You are a strong, independent woman who is not afraid of murder, after all, so you take your clothes, choker, and even earrings to the bathroom.

Then you have to exit it and hastily take your toothbrush and toothpaste. You forgot the most important things, yeah, that’s [Name] for ya. 

Hm. 

You should also do something with your hair too because right now you think the Spanish Inquisition wouldn’t hesitate before calling you a witch. So you take a brush with you as well if only to look like an actual human being. Little two braids like Wednesday Addams would be goth and cute. You can do braids alright, but the problem with doing _two_ braids always comes from one thing. How do you part hair just right in the middle? Seriously, that’s some complicated black magic shit. 

You pop your lips. Wednesday’s idea is out of the window, defenestrated faster than Imperials out of Prague. Should let your hair just flow then? Leaving it free? If you get into the fight, that’s a bad plan, and you always plan to get into a fight, but on the other hand, you don’t have the willpower necessary to argue with your hair now. 

You are going to just leave it for now. Maybe you will do something with it later. You nod to yourself and with that out of the way, you can finally go to the bathroom and barricade yourself. Changing into a clean set of clothes is nice, even when you notice a bruise on your abdomen. You thought black and purple skin was repulsive, but now you change your mind. It was not so bad compared to green, yellow, pink, and _purple_ marking your tummy as if you are some kind of really fucked up canvas. 

_Mr. Picasso, with all due respect, I will never understand your art._

You wrinkle your nose with disgust as you see your reflection in the mirror. 

“Bitch,” you say aloud, trying to motivate yourself. Your eyes are puffed a little, but at least you are not red from crying, so you take hold of the sink and look straight into your own eyes, “That’s right, [Name], you are _the_ bitch. You can do anything you want.” 

Even ignore your best friends in the world, the flower burners. 

“Murder,” you continue, even as your voice trembles a little, “Who is going to get away with it? You. Because you know too much to be stupid and get caught. Ha, see you in twenty years, losers.” 

You force a laugh out of your throat as you take hold of the brush and start to obtain control of your hair. Thank God you had those double buns during the night. They are flat and messy, but sleeping with your hair not pulled or braided into something is a big _no-no_. 

Then it’s time to kill all the germs from your mouth. You take your toothbrush and your toothpaste and start to lazily brush your teeth. It’s a boring thing to do, you are not going to lie, so you reach with your free hand to your phone from your little pile of pajamas and unlock it. 

Seventy-four unread text messages. Twenty-six calls left unanswered. Your group chat shows only _ninety-nine plus_. You roll your eyes. Clingy bastards. Maybe even clingier than you. 

You also find one message from an unknown number. It is just a photo of your little Vladdie swimming in an actual tank in some fancy dorm room. You deduce that this number probably belongs to Waka, so you decide to answer, sending quickly a message _(Thank you! Make sure he has his fill of people to impale!)._ Satisfied, you also determine that this photo is simply too cute, so you save it on your phone. It goes to your little collection of Shit that happened in Miyagi, just next to photos of smiling Shinsuke and sleeping twins that Rintarou sent you.

Rintarou. You feel a knife going straight through your chest on the thought of him. It’s one thing to be angry with twins. You are - probably, maybe, perhaps - okay, that’s too optimistic. You just lost three friends, but only one of them used you to his amusement. Mr. Pretty Girl. Fuck him. Fuck him. You would totally pout, but it’s time to rinse your mouth, so you do that instead. 

There are no messages from him. That’s just what you expected. Haha, he had his fun over this stupid, naive girl, made her think he is her friend, but then used the moment of her vulnerability to mock her by gifting alone hydrangea - 

_Your hydrangea._

_Water._

_You didn’t put it in the vase._

It’s - it’s probably dead now. Just like you are about to be because it’s time to commit seppuku. Your ancestors are demanding you do so or you will be forever unpure. Your sin is too grievous, after all. Those flowers were gifted to you by Tobio and you forget about the last of them. You are an awful, awful person and you didn’t deserve to get them. 

You feel like you are about to cry _again_. Maybe you are a crybaby, after all. 

Sniffling, you hastily take your things and leave the bathroom. With panic, you throw them messily on your bag before you look for your beautiful flower. The flower you murdered. Hydrangea. Your beautiful hydrangea. You left her without any water. No, it’s worse than murder. You _manslaughtered_ her. You wheeze, the panic for the moment making you faint before you find your flower standing in a water-filled vase. You tilt your head at that.

It hurts only a bit. You still don’t want to know how the side of your abdomen is faring, but it’s good you can move your neck a little bit freely. Though it doesn’t answer the question of how the fuck? Did little magic elves do that during the night? Or maybe you did in your sleep-walking marathon?

“[Name].”

Shinsuke’s voice startles you. You spin around, looking from the direction it came from, and find your Prime Minister easily. It’s nearly impossible to not see him, really, but you probably rolled a natural one on that perception skill check. 

“ShinShin, my hydrangea is alive,” you say without even trying to mask your joy at that fact. His face, cold and freezing, softens as you point at your flower with trembling flower. 

“I hope you don’t mind me getting it into a vase,” he murmurs, edges of his ears red.

“Of course I don’t,” you shake your head. How are you supposed to mind him being so kind and sweet, and everything nice? You feel your eyes are getting wet, this time not from sadness, so you rub them, “Thank you. What I would do without you?”

What would Ina do? What would the world do? You are pretty sure it is standing just because Kita Shinsuke continues to breathe and that’s a blessing from high above. He is just too good a person. If he doesn’t get the Nobel Prize for existing, you are going to use dynamite to change that.

You bow deeply, trying to display your gratitude at least this way. He flusters at you, causing a meek smile to appear on your face as you rise to meet his eyes. A thought goes through your head. It’s stupid. Really stupid. So, you do it impulsively, closing the distance between the two of you. You tug the sleeve of his pajama, motioning for him to lower yourself. You have to stand on your tiptoes, but you can place a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“You are the best, ShinShin,” you whisper into his ear, “Thank you for being my friend.” 

Affection is easy with twins, with people you know for your whole life. Affection with Shinsuke always made you awkward, but you try your best not to blush too much as you go back to your normal height. This is what you wanted to do. This is the best way to thank somebody. 

Wait. 

You blew it. He could be totally not into kisses! Like, he offered you a hug and pat your head once or twice, but - well, maybe it’s too much? Girl, it’s time to retreat. Your cheeks are super warm as you take a step back, turning your attention back to your pretty, blue hydrangea. It poses a problem that yet has to be solved. How the fuck are supposed to transport it to Tokyo and then to Amagasaki? Well, the easiest way would be to press it. 

It will destroy the shape, though, that little ball of flowers just becoming flatter than - God, you don’t even know. Not like the Earth, but returning to your beautiful gift. That round shape is cute and important. Well, then, desperate times need desperate solutions or something like that. 

“Do you know how to press hydrangeas, ShinShin?” you ask, bobbing your head up and down. That’s your genius strategy to not let him see how red you are, “And, you know, not destroy that round thing? I don’t want to - “ 

You don’t want to demolish it even more. You bite down on your lip, unsure, as you look over your shoulder to gaze at him. 

Your captain is standing in the position you left him in, his hand touching the spot you planted your innocent kiss. Your heart drops straight to the bottom of the Mariana’s Trench. That’s it. He hates you. A knot tightens around your neck, as you suddenly become nervous and afraid. 

You fucked up.

_You fucked up._

You did it, now you are going to be alone because Shinsuke is going to hate you and never want to even look at you. You - you are going to throw up and then die, alone, unloved, and abandoned just like you absolutely deserve to -

What were you thinking? Oh, right, you weren’t.

Damn.

“Pressing it will keep the color and shape of the petals, but not the shape. You would have you cut the hydrangea blossoms in half to preserve it.” 

Shinsuke’s voice makes you look up. He still doesn’t look at you, but he takes a few towards your general direction and reaches over to your head, ruffling your totally-not-brushed-minutes-ago hair. That’s okay. You will let him destroy it anytime. 

“H - how?” you stutter, clutching the subject with the desperation of a drowning man. 

“You should cut them in half to flatten their curve,” he says gently, “Here, let me show you - “

It takes a moment because you have to call the hotel’s service to get scissors. They are not paid enough, damn it, Inarizaki, please give them a raise, because gods know that the management will probably not do that. One way or another, Shinsuke uses this time to go change his clothes, leaving you to decide what book you should use for pressing your precious gift.

You didn’t take a book on Vlad The Impaler and that one would be perfect for that, so you use the one about Caesar’s assassination. It is full of dry teardrops and sad, but fond memories. Perfect. 

After that, the hotel service brings your scissors. Shin is the one to take it from the baffled staff, as you are cowardly hiding deeper in the room. He also cuts the flower and presents it to you. Thinking about how your big bouquet becomes so small makes you think about the Byzantine Empire. Just like East Rome fell to the might of the Ottoman Empire, your beautiful flowers burnt under demons’ touch. You take them gently and press them between pages of the tale of Rome’s greatest general. It feels strangely fitting. 

You still don’t know what to tell Kageyama. You still don’t know what to do with your former-friends, but one thing is taken care of at least. You hide it deep into your bag, and turn around, probably too happy. 

“Thank you,” you tell him again, “How can I ever pay you back, ShinShin?” 

“I don’t help you to gain something,” he responds simply, shaking his head. Warmth fills your chest with that and you beam at him with gratitude. He opens his lips, releasing a little bit of air before he continues, “Would you like me to bring you something from the kitchen?” 

The offer he so casually speaks of is tempting. You want nothing more than to take him up on that. Let him deal with it, so you can stay hidden and safe, protected by the walls of this room and cover from the next confrontation by people you love dearly and who hurt you. You want to be back in your apartment, away, away, away, and yet, you know, that it’s the wrong way to take.

You remember thinking you want to stop being a manager of the team in anger and hurt. _Do you_? 

It’s strange. You want to say yes, and yet you can’t help murmuring _no_ in a quiet, nervous voice. The word escapes from your mouth before you can stop it, but you find yourself not regretting it. You repeat it, a little bit louder.

“Why should I hide?” you question, “I did nothing wrong.”

You don’t think you ever saw anyone looking so proud at you as Shinsuke Kita did. You can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. 

* * *

Without Wednesday’s braids, but with the will of both Gomez and Morticia Addams, you arrive at the hotel’s restaurant with Shinsuke walking just next to you. Your glare skims through the room, but you don’t see your enemies at the moment. Several other members of the club are seated already, with Kurosu looking at his phone with the face of a man who is in love. You feel sweat dripping from your forehead. Face-talking with his dog probably. 

On the other hand, coach Oomi had a hella of the night. His whole neck is full of mosquito bites. He doesn’t seem to be ashamed in the slightest of spending the whole night in the forest with the trees if the way he keeps smiling is anything to go on. 

“Date,” you hear Gintama’s annoying voice, “In black and without your boyfriends. Who died?” 

“You,” you answer with the loveliest of voices as you plop down on the empty chair near Ojiro who moves his eyebrows in a suggestive, dirty manner at your captain. Shinsuke takes the one just next to it, making you giggle happily before you look back at the Team’s Bitch, “Who let you out of your cage, Gintama?” 

“I don’t live in the cage!” 

“We should change that then.” 

Akagi chuckles at that, earning a chokehold from the salty boy. You yawn, uninterested in their antics as you look at the food in front of you. You remember not eating anything in the night, but somehow, you don’t feel hungry at all.

Chtulhu, _you_ don’t feel hungry.

You have to force something in, mostly because you don’t want people to notice how much you are sulking, but also because you can’t simply stop eating. Your body needs the energy to live. How did Molière say it in _The Miser_? _One should eat to live, and not live to eat?_ Wait, that was Harpagon and he wanted to make out with his money. In the Seventeen Century. That’s so unhygienic, oww. 

You shake your head, as you very shyly stand up and lean to take a cup of tea. As you take it from the middle of the table, your hand is shaking so much you feel like you are in the eye of the earthquake.

And this is the moment the doors of the restaurant open. You throw a glance over your shoulder and instantly feel steaming liquid dropping on your hand. You bite down the hiss of pain and step right back to your chair, trying to don your best _bitch face_.

Immediately, Shinsuke takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the hot tea from your palm, his eyes narrowing sharply. You smile awkwardly at him in the answer. Then, comes shuffling of the chairs next to you and you do your best to keep your face in an angry scowl as you know who entered the restaurant.

Osamu looks like hell. His face is wan and pale. There are dark circles under his eyes and yet, he doesn’t seem to care about any of it, his face unreadable book of food recipes. His hair is immaculate, though, making you think the one who did it for him was his older brother. You will give him two stars. 

Atsumu, on the other hand, acts like nothing wrong ever happened in his life, donning a vain smile on his face and having his hands in pockets. His hair is perfect, not a strand out of the place. He doesn’t look tired or weary, or even sad, though a chill runs through your spine as you realize his gold eyes never left you from the moment he entered the restaurant. Subtle is not his forte, not at all. One star. 

Suna gets zero stars. He appears to You should have known from the start he never thought about you as a friend. Whoever would? Only people as kind as Shinsuke, Kizuchi, or - or Tobio and Waka, you guess. If you can even call them friends and not lonely, sad, or compassionate people who were kind enough to at least pretend to care for you. 

What did they get from that? The smell of burning flowers hits your nose. Should you be surprised they didn’t burn the shirt you got from Waka? Should you fear for this little handkerchief that Shinsuke wraps around your palm? 

That’s a sweet gesture, the one which makes you happier than you can even express in the words, but, ShinShin, dearie, that’s not a serious burn needing first-aid. That you can call the consequences of being clumsier than an elephant in the Alps. Hannibal, oh Hannibal, what were you thinking? Maybe he wasn’t thinking. Maybe Hannibal is your spirit animal. 

You steal a glance towards the twins, not being able to resist, and find 

You wish you could bring your free hand and snack on your nails, but you fought hard to get rid of that habit. You are not going to do that. Instead, you tap your fingers against your leg in a comical parody of Revolutionary Etude that would make Chopin cry more than when he heard Warsaw into Russia’s hands during the November Uprising. Kakashi Look-Alike Number One would probably try to chop your hand off if he ever heard the heresy, but he is not there. 

_Oh, I look like Kakashi, have very nice, warm hands and play stupid music with them, oh, so magnificent_ , you send a telepathic message to your former archnemesis, _At least I know why he wrote that, you stupid giraffe._

“Sunshine.”

_Hello, even stupider giraffe._

You don’t grace him with an answer. 

“[Name],” he whines in the response, sounding as if you kicked him. You did. You wish you could, but you are not going to, because he would like this, the masochist son of a bitch.

Did you just call Shouko a bitch? Sweet Lord Jesus, you have _sinned_. 

“Shut up your mouth, Tsumu, before I shut it myself.”

Of all people present, you didn’t think Osamu would be the first to defend you in that situation. Okay, he is always the first one to defend you, but that’s his _twin_ trying to get your forgiveness. Shouldn’t he join his whining? 

Shinsuke releases your hand and you beam at him in silent thanks, but he simply nods, turning to the twins with a cold glare. 

“As if you could,” Atsumu snaps back, his words sounding sharper than usual. You take your cup of tea carefully into your hands and sip it. You shouldn’t be surprised that they can be irritating you with their dumb fights even when you are ignoring their existence.

They glare at each other. Suna rolls his eyes and Ojiro sighs tiredly, as they all are getting ready to listen to their bullshit. Both of the Miya twins are stopped, though, as the sound of somebody clapping reiterates through the room. 

The attention whore, who is trying to get you to focus on something even dumber, is none else but your older coach, Kurosu Norimune, a whip master of the horde of evil foxes and dog lover extraordinaire. 

“Okay, demons, demons, demons!” he shouts, causing the nearby waitress to nearly trip on the air. Someone, get her a raise, “And Kita, we are all glad you are there,” Kurosu is no better than any of you and ignores her plight. Huh, he already has forgiven ShinShin? That was fast, “Listen to me for the moment.” 

“Do we have to?” Akagi asks cheekily through his chokehold, “We don’t want to hear about Momo-chan again, Kurosu - sensei!” 

“Everybody wants to hear about Momo-chan, you little vandal!” 

You don’t feel like going into a lecture about Vandals, but Kurosu glares at you nonetheless, as if you expecting you to do. You stick your tongue at him, showing you non-conformist ways to the world. He doesn’t look impressed, but when you continue to not talk about the Germanic tribe, he clears his throat.

“The bus is taking off on three p.m.,” he informs all of you, “The headmaster decided he loves you all more than me. He called the hotel and made them check us earlier, so you can sleep in beds rather than on the bus.” 

“He bribed them,” Ojiro rolls his eyes, “That’s his solution to everything. Just throw money until a problem goes away.” 

Nothing more than you expected from the person who built a stadium for high-schoolers. You shrug your shoulder, exasperated. The more you hear about Ina’s _el Presidente_ , the more you wish you will never meet him. The man has to be clinically insane and yet, somehow he is not in the asylum where he rightfully belongs. 

“And if it doesn’t, throw even more money,” Suna’s deadpan causes your heart to stop for the second. You bat your eyes, trying to get rid of the pain that goes through your bones. He doesn’t sound sad or regretful, as he leans lazily in the direction of the younger of your teachers, “Hey, Oomi - sensei, did you have a good night?” 

He tricked you. 

He _so_ did. 

It’s humiliating. It makes you think of things you don’t want to remember, words spoken by lips so different from him and hands, hands holding your wrists, hands in your hair, hands yanking you down. 

_(“You are so pathetic, Date. Do you think anyone would even look at you was it not for them?”_

_The heel of the shoe presses harder. A sob escapes your mouth, the pathetic sound of a hurt animal. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much. As in the answer, somebody - you don’t know her, you try to tell yourself, you don’t know her, you never saw her before, she is not your friend - kicks you in the face.)_

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Rintarou. I was only listening to Taiko concert.” 

It’s the same, old war, you come to the bitter conclusion, Thinking about it will not change the fact that it did happen. That he never cared. That he just wanted to have a quick laugh over you. You take a long sip of your tea, the hot liquid nearly burning your tongue.

You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong. 

“More like private Taiko concert, am right.” 

The laughter breaks around you. 

You shiver a bit, but decide to ignore it as you place your empty cup back on the table. You feel gazes on you, on your skin, on your hair, and your lips. Those eyes belong to people who care about you. You don’t know what you would do without them. You doubt you would be alive without it. They encompass you in the protective bubble, built from their adoration and sacrifice. 

But sometimes you want to step outside of that bubble, even if it will end with you being burnt. Sometimes, you want to try on your own. Sometimes, you want to trust, even if there is nothing but humiliation awaiting you. Sometimes, you want them to choose themselves over you. Sometimes, you wish you wouldn’t be so important to them - then, surely, they would shine brighter, no longer burdened by you, the symbol of their guilt. 

Like a double-edged sword, their love protects, but it also hurts. Hurts you. Hurts them. Toxic like sulfur acid, irresistible like chocolate. You need to talk with them, but you know how it will end. They will nod and agree, but nothing will change. 

It’s funny, how violently does your mood swing. You drunk tea, and yet, there is the bitter taste of coffee on your tongue as you finally come to the decision. You will not speak with twins today. 

You are unsure about tomorrow, but today, it’s a gothic, silent treatment. Let them think about their actions. 

“Please, teach me your ways, Master.” 

You feel a light touch on your palm. Shifting your attention, you see Shinsuke’s brown eyes looking at you with a question painted on his face. He is little like twins, you think, but his care, his friendship doesn’t choke you as much. You shake your head, signaling everything is okay.

“How many girlfriends did you have in this year already, Rintarou?”

He nods, but his eyes don’t leave your figure you so you bring your finger to your mouth and make a little small out of your lips. Your stupidity has to be amusing to him because you see a smile rousing on his face before he covers his mouth in a violent cough fit. 

You giggle at that, gently patting his back in reassurance. 

“That’s racist, Oomi-sensei,” Suna continues to drone, his voice flat and uncaring. Isn’t it silly how fast your perception can change? It’s a little like hearing about those great generals in elementary school and then reading about them, coming to the conclusion they all were reckless idiots, “If not me, then how about the most oblivious person in our team?” 

Rintarou Suna used to be a friend, but now he is your Brutus, conspiring to kill you with fifty-nine other men. Well, good luck finding so many people who liked or pretended to like you. You don’t even think you know fifty-nine people, so his plot is already falling apart. 

Who would think you being anti-social will help avoid death one day? 

“Who, Osamu?” Oomi cocks his head from his table in the general direction of Osamu. To be honest, you are pretty sure that everybody looks at the silver-haired twin, who only promises death and damnation with his eyes. 

“I don’t give a fuck what you think, sensei,” he retorts abruptly, “Go die in the ditch. Nobody likes you. You are so lame and dull that the Spartans would throw you over the cliff before you were even born with both of your parents for daring to make such abomination.” 

“Osamu!” Momjiro yells scandalized, reaching to smack him into the head and stopping just centimeters from doing so. Osamu doesn’t growl and bark, but he definitely bites, and he doesn’t even hesitate to show it to your team’s mother, “I - I - Okay, I’m going to leave you alone.” 

He retreats, afraid for his life and throwing you a horrified glance. You tilt your head. What are you supposed to do? He never took your arguments well. It was one thing for you and Atsumu to try to kill each other. Your relationship with Osamu was different. 

You were always on each other side. The most serious argument you ever got into before this one had to be that time they kidnapped you for joining the team. 

Well, he shouldn’t burn your flowers, little shit. 

“Okay, who pissed in his cereal?” Gintama asks, showing once again that he has no self-awareness, “Atsumu?”

“Fuck off,” Osamu responds in place of his brother. For once, Gintama decides to listen, looking at the feral twin baffled. Didn’t they see him like that before, seriously? You would think Atsumu provokes him into the state of Big Bad Wolf often. 

“Angry demon is angry,” Kurosu says philosophically, acting as if he was expecting it all along, “Just be ready at three. I don’t care about the rest, I have an important meeting with my Momo-chan and my wife.” 

“I love how we know the name of his dog, but not his wife,” you mumble to yourself, swinging your legs. Seriously, you don’t even want to know how their relationship works. If it works. 

Are they together just for their dog? There’s ninety-nine percent that the answer is yes. 

“I was talking about Gintama actually,” Suna says dryly. He still doesn’t give up, it seems he likes to drag all of his jokes long, “He needs all the help he can get. Help him, o Great Elder, Tarou Oomi.” 

“What do you mean, talking about me?!” Gintama stands up from indignation, throwing his hands in the air, “I don’t need any help! There is nobody I like!” 

_The lady doth protest too much, methinks_ to quote old good Billy. You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. You never would have thought that Gintama can have a crush. He is just such a fool that you were pretty sure he doesn’t possess any feelings. 

Wait, can you even trust what Suna says? Probably not. 

“Rintarou, please return to talking about death,” coach Oomi still smiles as if nothing wrong ever happened in his life, “I like you better that way.”

“You are the most oblivious person on this team and we have Osamu and Atsumu, Gintama - kun,” he drawls his words and smiles arrogantly. Yeah, okay, now you know he is full of bullshit, “C’mon, tell our savior about your little love problem.” 

_Osamu and Atsumu_ , oblivious? Yeah, whatever. You roll your eyes. What’s next, maybe he will call _you_ oblivious? Ha. Look at you. You are conscious of everything happening around you! You trained to be a ninja or a spy, after all. Not a mouse can move without you knowing about it. 

“Shut the fuck up, Rin,” Osamu snaps, his eyes dark. To your surprise, Rintarou instantly does that, hastily taking his eyes from the younger twin. He looks to be in a panic. 

You don’t like it. You don’t like what is happening now at all. 

You did nothing wrong, but you feel as if you are choking. This place is wrong for you, with them so close and reminding you with every gesture that yesterday happened. That your beautiful bouquet was in flame, that you were played and made fun of. What even you are doing there? Your plate is empty, your tea drunk, and you start to feel nausea. You feel uncomfortable and wrong sitting here, just ahead of your childhood friends. You are not even hungry, damn it. 

You should probably just go. 

“That’s right, Rin - kun,” Atsumu nods at that, though his face is the complete opposite of that of his twin. He is smiling friendly, even though he is probably killing the middle blocker in his mind, “ _Leave us out of your business_.” 

“Demons,” Rin fakely shivers, “I need holy water.” 

“He is right, Hitoshi,” to your total bafflement, the one who nods is Omimimimi. That Omimimi. You are pretty sure you never heard him talk before. You flutter your eyes, “Just ask them out already.”

Wait, wait, wait, that is happening? Like, seriously, Gintama likes somebody?! Why did nobody tell you? How could you not notice? 

“Ask who?” you question, nearly jumping down and up from your seat, “Who? Who? Who? Does our litwee wittle Gintama have a crush? Crushy crushy? His Majesty, the Capitalist Pig? Who? I need to know!” 

You glance towards Gintama who becomes redder than drunk Tobio. He has a crush! You cannot believe it. Instantly, you whip your head to Omimimi, waiting for him to answer. The giant seems to become nervous at your intent gaze. Damn it, you asked him the question! Where is your lamp to light his eyes like cops in those old films do?! 

“Yeah, too late, the boss bitch is after you.”

Your figure instantly deflates, as the words echo in your mind. Suna is talking about _you_. He dares to talk about you, using the term you used affectionately and joke. Only, now that you know he never quite liked you, the word _bitch_ becomes venomous. 

_Intended as the insult_ , you remember Tobio’s words and they hit you straight into the chest. You fall to your chair, feeling deprived of the air for the second. 

“Rintarou!”

“Hey, Rin.” 

“ _Rintarou_.” 

“Rin - kun, you idiot!” 

One word echoes in your head.

It’s always this one word that brings the worst in you. 

You take a deep breath and slam your hand down the table, bringing every attention to you. Your face is carefully hidden, sculped by the masters of the art themselves into the cold mask, as you stand up and open your lips, your voice icy as you look into Rintarou Suna’s eyes.

”I would prefer that you don’t call me this, Suna-san.” 

You are still not sure what color they are and you don’t want to even find out now. He locks into your form, looking as if he is trying to find _something._ He is searching for a weakness, to a way to mock you even more, but you are not going to let him see anything. Not anymore.

_Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice, shame on me._

“Okay, [Name],” your name rolls easily enough from his lips, but he doesn’t let his eyes fall. You don’t know what he expects from you. Are you supposed to blush like an idiot, just because he called you that, acting as if nothing is wrong? 

Everything is wrong. You can forgive twins with time, you can talk with them, but you don’t think you can even trust Suna Rintarou again, not when he treated you like a toy and disregarded your feelings. Not when he continues to ridicule you like that.

You know how fake friends work. You are not going to forgive him. You are not going to let him - 

_(The laughter breaks out._

_Voices, so many voices, all of them speaking at the same time, insulting and calling you one thing over and over again, the word integrated into your mind forever. Tears fall as you weep, your own blood being your only comfort, as you try to move up, to sit up, to do anything._

_“I don’t even know what they see in you.”_

_The force disappears from your hand and you feel a hand on your hair, as she yanks you down, down, down. Your head hits the tiles again and your whole world spins, as you pray to the gods that you don’t believe in._

_“You are nothing, but a little - “)_

“Only my friends can call me by my name, Suna - san,” you tell him, stressing his last name, “Not people who pretend to be them. Now, I think I had enough. Thank you.” 

You stand up and leave, ignoring everything that goes behind you.

* * *

Don't you overacting and misunderstandings? I know I do :) Needless to say, a lot happened behind the scenes. Rin - kun had a plan, but he miscalculated again :D

But you know, it's so stupid how I can write paragraphs about nothing. We were supposed to leave for Tokyo this chapter asdfghjkl Shinsuke and Rin destroyed everything. I hope you enjoyed this mess anyway. Also, MC has more character development! Hope it made sense how she decided to talk with twins later. Not going to lie, she is a disaster, but she tries~

Thank you for reading!


	37. In which Sakura trees don't make any sense (and you probably do the stupidest thing in your entire life).

The corners of your lips turn downside, as you carefully analyze the situation you are in right now. You glower, knowing very well it’s not the best one to find yourself in: sitting on the pavement, pouting at the ground as if it was responsible for the last two World Wars. It's not, you know that very well, but your emotions don't care about that small detail in the slightest. 

You are a widow who just got betrayed and stormed out of her house, ending up on a cold, cold brick. Hungry - or at least _hangry_ \- and shivering in the wind, you should be glad there is no rain, though looking at the sky, you are not going to be so lucky for long. 

It’s still better than being in the hotel and hearing the mocking voice of Rintarou Suna. 

You tap your foot on the pavement, feeling even more frustrated than before at the memory of the black-haired boy. Or the brown-haired boy. Who the fuck cares about the color of his hair, anyway? Not you. Definitely not you. You poke a nearby stone with your finger, still sulking. To your surprise, the stone _moves_ , revealing an awful insect. 

You don’t panic. You don’t scream. You don’t dart off. No witnesses who are claiming so are going to be alive to testify anyway. Dear Dark Lord, you hope there are no cameras near the hotel to film your shame. 

Who are you kidding? There are probably are. You sigh as you find another place to sit. It’s a bench this time, so you hope you will be able to at least spend the morning without more monster - related incidents. You plop down, your frustration very much easy to see for passersby. The boy wearing a cute uniform with a white jacket pointily avert your gaze and fasten his pace. Asshole. You wish you had something to throw at his stupid face.

“Hey, Akira, is that not..?” 

The second boy, wearing the same uniform follows him, though he practically stares at you the whole time. You flip him off and he doesn’t end his sentence, instead hastily joining the asshole with bitch face. Cowardish jerks. 

You rub your arms, as you look into the cloudy sky. 

What do we do when we’re feeling hurt and angry? 

A rational person would probably try to calm down. A less rational one would commit a homicide. You, being the total weirdo, did something else entirely. You left the restaurant and then the hotel, going through the exit so dramatically you nearly felt like you were acting for some kind of awful ad about unhealthy anger management or whatever. It’s not like your fury was ever rational or irrational. It simply is.

Your bench croaks. Yes, it’s your bench now. Seize the means of production or whatever. If you only had a marker to sign it and leave your mark on the city of Sendai. Not like you already did, by burning that one restaurant and destroying poor Mademoiselle Net. 

You planned to go shopping at the first. Nothing can bring your mood up like a new pair of shoes. Then came your mistake, of course. Hey, Google, what do we do when we’re feeling hurt and angry, but we don’t have money on ourselves? Suffer, probably. No, wait, that’s Yahoo’s answer. 

Rubbing your arms doesn’t provide any additional warmth, so you raise your arms to your cheeks and pinch them painfully. Meh. Still not woken up. You didn’t even take any jacket with you, so you are still sitting only in your crop top. It’s a beautiful piece of clothing, but it is not suitable for such awful weather. 

You feel like you are in the United Kingdom. Grey clouds, strong gale, about to rain. What next? Thunder and lightning? Yeah, getting too excited here, [Name]. 

At least it’s not as cold as yesterday. Not that this thought helps you much as it is still very much freezing. April is so lame. There is an easy solution to your problem, of course. Why couldn’t you just go back to your - or rather Shinsuke’s - room and take your wallet and jacket before you decided to storm out of the hotel? 

You don’t know. Just like American doctrine dictates: _If you don’t know what you are doing, then the enemy certainly can’t anticipate your future actions_. Wonderful, if somebody was spying on you, they are super confused right now. Take that, Washijo, it’s 1 - 0 for you now. 

You return your gaze to the city of Sendai, the pearl built by maybe-your-ancestor. You didn’t exactly have time to inspect the metropolis before you. A giggle escapes your throat. Metropolis. Just like Ancient Greek _polis_ or _poleis_. That’s a neat word. You should use it more often, mostly to confuse Atsumu. After he apologizes. If he apologizes. 

The thought breaks your heart. Gods of Ina High, you hope he - they - do. 

Well, you have your phone in the pocket, so you definitely can retrace your steps later. And if not, then that’s not your problem. Future [Name], good luck. You stand up, saying a silent goodbye to Fred, your bench friend, and decide to have a little tour. 

That’s probably suicidal in your current condition, but returning to the hotel is not an option. Fortune favors the bold and you feel quite, well, not exactly courageous right now. You want to do something stupid and reckless, something that you will regret, so you are going to do it. Touring the great city of Masamune Date without any money. You feel the incoming urge to facepalm. Well, you decided already. Humming a little, you skip ahead. 

Your stomach grumbles as if it wants to say it’s an amazing idea. _I know it bitch, but we are supposed to don’t have any appetite_ , you try to persuade yourself as you pass the little bakery on your way, _Suna took all of it away_. They probably have bagels. You want bagels. Bagels rock, damn it.

Well, whatever. So. Sendai is open to you. What should you do, what should you do? You can try to visit Tobio at Karasuki. You would like to see somebody as sweet and gentle as your Blueberry after the accident with Rin, but there is a problem with that plan. Your hydrangeas. You frown. The black-haired boy can’t ever know what happened to them. You can already see his sad expression, pulling on your heartstrings. He could even try to buy you them again and that will not do.

Bye, bye, Blueberry. 

You would like to see him. You would like that very much. Maybe he would offer comfort by letting you play with his very soft hands or hold fingers with you as the two of you ate something nice. Maybe ice cream? He looks like a person who likes ice cream. 

You sigh, enthusiasm slowly waning before you take hold of yourself. You clasp your cheeks. _C’mon, [Name]_ , you tell yourself, _Don’t be like that. Don’t think about fake friends. Don’t let them win. Do something cool._ What is there to do without money? Window-shopping will only make you sad and hungry. They say looking at plants is good for your eyes or something, and that’s a nice plan. Only you are in the middle of the city. What a neat idea, [Name], go seek a mother nature in the middle of Sendai. This is why you can’t have nice things. 

Bringing your thumb to your mouth, you wonder. What else can you? _What else_? Exercise, your dumb mind supplies. You feel a shiver going through your spine that has nothing to do with a cold wind. How about no. 

Maybe you can go for a stroll? That doesn’t sound exhausting and maybe breathing not-so-fresh city air will do you good. Okay, then, time to choose a direction at random! You spin in the circle before pointing to the random road. You nod to yourself, ignore nasty glares coming from passer-byes, and skip ahead to that place. You walk absentmindedly, continuing to hum lightly and enjoying the scenery of the city. 

They say all roads lead to Rome, well, sikes, not yours. It doesn’t take you a long time to realize you are probably going to end up near the Aoba Castle. If you can trust those signs, that’s it. You are not going to complain, even if Rome is in a nicer direction. 

Aoba Castle would still be a nice place to visit. If you think about it, there is a high chance you are related to Masamune _Date_ , the best warlord of Sengoku Jidai, the one who built Sendai and the castle. It’s cool you can see, even if it’s from afar. You don’t have money to pay the admission to the museum and you are not in so much denial to think that your maybe-ancestor will help you. 

You rub your hands together as the gust of wind throws several of the Sakura tree’s petals on your head. It always looks so nice in anime and manga, but those damn trees are nothing but trouble in real life. Yeah, they are pretty, but you know what else is pretty? _Diamonds_. Yet people don’t plant diamonds everywhere. 

“Oikawa - san!” 

Whoever decided to screech that name in the middle of the street is clearly not right in the head. You are not supposed to scream other’s names in the streets, leave it in the sheets. You blow a little bit of the air from your mouth, trying to get rid of it from your nose. It works, but not in the way you anticipated. 

It falls into your mouth.

“Pfff!” 

You take it out as fast as you can, but the taste of dirt is still in. It’s awful. You bring your hands to your lips, wiping them chaotically and pretending it’s helpful. It’s not, there is no question about it, as it brings into you unwanted gazes.

“Oh, is it not [Name]-chan?”

No, excuse you, you are her evil clone. Wait, if you are the evil clone of already evil [Name] Date, then are you even eviler? Or are you good? Okay, nevermind, that’s irrelevant. 

What is relevant is your feelings. You are still unsettled as the yucky taste is the only thing you actually felt this morning, if the tea you drank doesn’t count. Osamu’s sakura daifuku are always so delicious. How is this possible when the petals of Sakura’s trees suck so much? 

“You know her, Oikawa-san?” comes the unknown, sultry voice, bringing your instantly back to life. 

Why are those people standing in the circle around somebody with brown hair anyway? Don’t they have better things to do? Like escaping from the death that is called Sakura trees? 

Wait. _Oikawa-san_? Where did you hear that last name? You know! That clerk from your convenience shop, the one you never liked to look into the eyes, was named Oikawa. Or maybe Aikawa? Aizawa? No, Aizawa is from anime. So, where did hear Oikawa? 

If you think about it, Puffykawa’s school was named Aoba-Something. There is no way it means it is near Aoba Castle, right? Wait again. You saw those two boys earlier and they were wearing uniforms suspiciously familiar. 

Oh.

 _Oh._

Wrinkling your nose, you lift your head, feeling dread encompassing your body. You look around, frantically searching for any sign of him. You see people walking around in those definitely-not-cute uniforms that you think belong to that particular school. Is that so early that you see students? You don’t feel particularly sleepy, but - 

“[Name]-chan, did you look for me?” yes, this is definitely Puffy’s voice. Your eyes flicker around before you are swallowed by darkness, “You are so cute!” 

You don’t see anything as something or someone encompasses you. It gives you a little bit of warmth, you will give it that - wait, are those a-arms?! W - what are they d - doing around y - your waist?! Your bruises wallow loudly at that, but you don’t care, too busy by the notion of someone touching you so intimately. 

_Please, tell me it’s not Puffy._

You panic as someone lifts you. You don’t have time to blink as a smiling face appears before you. Brown eyes meet yours as his lips twist into an awful, soul-wrenching smile. Your blood runs cold. 

_It’s Puffy._

Kidnapping. Kidnapping. _Kidnapping_! You are a kid and he is definitely planning on taking you home! You are being abducted in bright sunlight, with so many witnesses and evidence to be left that you can’t help the indignation flashing through you. _An amateur_ is your first thought, _He will be caught faster than you can say banana._ Wait, you are not supposed to judge the lack of his skill in committing the crime by Puffykawa. You are supposed to be hysterical right no! 

For a second, everything is still. Nobody reacts as he tenderly leans close, bending his face far too to yours. You - you don’t know what he wants to do, but his eyes suspiciously stay on your poor cheek and you remember you kissing Shinsuke in the same place in the morning. 

That’s - that’s - that’s reserved for friends! You can’t take this anymore. Driven more by fear than any logical thought you swing your head into his forehead. 

“ _Ouch_!” 

You bite down on your lip. Okay, maybe headbutting him was not the best plan. It hurts. It hurts a lot and he doesn’t even let you go, still having his arms around your waist, acting as if he was your friend, not a murderous psycho bent on seducing you and then leaving your body in the ditch. 

“[Name] - chan,” he whimpers pathetically, trying to get your poor, bleeding heart to feel sorry for him, “That was uncalled on! I just wanted to kiss you on the cheek!” the smile he gives you is coy and teasing, “ But that’s alright, don’t worry. You are so shy, I should know better.”

Instead, you go feral on that. You don’t want to end up in the ditch, goddamn it. You start to struggle, kicking and punching blindly, trying to reach to his face and gouge his fucking eyes out. You strike with your nails, scratching his nose. 

“Hey, [Name] - chan, calm down - You look so cute - Stop hitting me, you adorable - Oww, [Name]-chan, that hurt me!”

 _That’s the fucking point_! 

“Let me go, you amoeba,” you reel in retaliation, trying to attack him again, “You broken, worthless heel left on the side of the road! Take your hands out of me! I don’t consent to this touch! I don’t consent!”

“What the hell you are doing, Shitty Oikawa?!” 

Before you can say anything more, the arms around you finally loosen a bit. Puffy groans straight into your ear. You flinch at the sound reverberating so close to you, but can’t fight the tickle of satisfaction. You don’t know why, but he seems to be in pain, which is music to your ears. 

Your sadistic tendencies aside, you were given a distraction, an opportunity, and you are not about to let it go. You bite your lips and using the ancient technique, taught from one woman to another, you reach for the person’s most vulnerable place. 

You straight-up shove your fingers into his eyes. The thought of touching somebody’s eyeballs is nauseating, but you do it anyway. You are about to save your life. He screams, not expecting that particular attack. It’s satisfying as hell and you let yourself be proud of what you did for a second. What is not satisfying is how you end up falling. Your ninja training is still not completed, so you don’t roll elegantly but drop to your knees painfully. 

Yeah, even more bruises are what you fucking need. 

“You deserved it.”

If that somebody is talking about you, fuck them. If they are talking about Puffy, then yes, he absolutely did, and fuck Puffy. 

You whimper and hastily scramble back. You can’t let him cage you again. He is too big of an opponent for you to tackle, which is why you decide to retreat without even trying to stand up. You don’t look behind, you don’t have time to, which is why you end up hitting a wall. Wall made of legs. Fuck. You lift your head, not quite sure what would be the worst option. Probably Moon Tower. 

It’s not Moon Tower, thank god. 

It’s a boy you are pretty sure you saw him somewhere before. If you squint a bit, you may even recognize that he wears the same sports clothing as Shittykawa. Oh. Yeah. He was the one who saved you from that rat before the match, you think. From this proximity, he looks like a thug. This is something you didn’t notice before, but you know what? Shittykawa is practically a model and you can’t trust him as far as you can throw him. 

This is what you deduce: Puffy, bad. Not Moon Tower, good. Punched Puffy, very good! 

As soon as you find yourself able to move again, you hide behind your savior, climbing through his leg and grasping into his shirt desperately. You are nearly hanging your whole body’s weight on him. Forget koalas. You are motherfucking sloth. 

As the Delinquent™ gazes on you, you make your best impression of Osamu’s puppy eyes. Please, please, kind person, save this poor maiden. Not from everything, you can take care of yourself, okay? Just from Puffy. He is Éowyn to your Witch-King, Harry to your Voldemort, Blackbeard to your Luffy. Yes, he is your ultimate weakness. You don’t even want to breathe the same air as him.

If you had to describe Puffy without using the words _serial_ and _killer_ , you would say that he is like a celebrity. Pretty on the picture, but come closer and you see that he is a spoiled brat, who overdoses drugs and drives a car drunk, performing hit and drive, one of the most heinous crimes. You scowl at everything he represents.

Metaphorically, though! Not literally, because you are too busy trying to emotionally manipulate the person before you. You don’t know if what you are doing works. You like to call yourself the shadow master, not the great manipulator. He doesn’t smile at you and swears fealty of his house, only blushes. Okay, it seems Osamu’s puppy eyes work only on Atsumu. Duly noted. 

“Iwa-chan, you brute,” Puffy still doesn’t recover from your attack, covering his eyes with his hand as he blindly reaches into the air with another, trying to grab something. You sure hope it is not you, because his touch is quite toxic, “I was just - “ 

“H-he planned to k-kill me,” you quickly interfere with his little speech, stuttering just a little, “I-I was just w-walking by, I w-wanted to see Aoba Castle because of M-Masamune D-Date. He - he attacked me and -”

The delinquent narrows his eyes at you. He doesn’t believe you. That’s the truth, though. The honest truth! You feel like you are about to cry or punch him in the stomach and escape. You would run already if you didn’t think that ball of muscles couldn’t catch you in several seconds. Stupid athletes. 

Why doesn’t he take your word over that of his friend? Oh. Yeah, you see the logic. If somebody told you Atsumu tried to kill them, you would just stab the bitch and then call him to help you dig the grave.

“He was harassing her, Iwaizumi-senpai,” the help comes unexpectedly from one of the girls who crowded around the flea, “She looked so scared and I couldn’t move, I’m so sorry! I just never thought Oikawa would be a person who hurts girls.” 

She bows profoundly before you and other girls quickly follow her example. You blink. Somehow, you thought they would side with him. They sort-of look like their groupies or fans, but really, they can’t be. What sort of being that is not Shinsuke Kita deserves a fan club anyway? 

“What are you talking about, Nanako-chan?” he says, trying to pass his voice as sincerely hurt. He even dares to gasp at that statement, which looks hilarious as he still didn’t recover from your assault, “I would never hug a girl if she didn’t want me to! I’m a gentleman!” 

You don’t remember him asking you for the consent, though. You wouldn’t give him one. You sniff pathetically, as you lean closer to the body of the proclaimed thug. 

“Y - you just did, though. I - I wouldn’t touch you if you were the lost p-person on the Earth,” you whisper into Zizi’s shirt, which provokes a cry of outrage from the crowd, “L - Leave me a - alone, asshole.” 

Your touch has to be toxic because you feel a shiver going through Zizi’s body. Well, excuse you if your hands are cold, but you are suffering a traumatic experience right now. 

“Oikawa-san, I’m disappointed in you!” 

Before long you find yourself surrendered by other girls. His lordship, with all awful connotations coming with that title, just looks stunned as the horde of the former Puffy’s fangirls descends upon the two of you, some of them throwing apologies, others complimenting Zizi, and one of them even patting your head gently. 

You find yourself releasing the hem of his shirt, as girls suddenly start to gift you little presents in really cute packages. It takes you a moment to realize those gifts, meant for Puffy, are now yours. Candies from strangers, quite literally, land into your open palm in such quantity it doesn’t take long for them to start falling from your hands. At this, somebody provides a very nice pink bag and so, all of the sweets are placed in that before the girl from before, Nanako, smiles at you gently as she hands it over. 

“I’m sorry, truly,” she bows to you as you hesitantly take the bag, “Watanabe-senpai was always speaking of him so highly,” she murmurs, sorrow evident in her tone. 

You squirm uncomfortably. You have no idea how to react, how to accept (should you even accept?) such words. Humans are complicated and nobody ever taught you how to take somebody’s apologies. With the twins, it’s easy. Just hug them. You don’t want to embrace this stranger, though, no matter how many free drugs she gave you. 

“I’m sorry. I should know better,” she straightens and reaches to pet your hair gently, trying to comfort you. You let her, sensing how saddened she is, “I told myself I would always react if something like that happened, and yet, I failed to realize the danger only because I know Oikawa-san.”

Isn’t it going a little too far?! She is acting as if she just killed and cannibalized all of your family! Not failed to react to something so rudimentary. You are used to being ignored anyway, so it’s no big deal. You don’t need them going to their knees for you. 

But looking in her eyes, you think she is going to be stubborn about it. You wrinkle your nose. That’s not a bad thing, not really, but the last time somebody was difficult and you dissuaded him from apologizing, your flowers got burnt. _What would Shinsuke do_? You don’t know. Your captain is above human understanding, too kind, too good. _What would Atsumu and Osamu do?_ Okay, do exactly the opposite of that. 

“Senpai,” you call her softly, grasping your bag tighter. She looks at you and you manage to send her a crooked smile, “P - please don’t blame yourself. N - nothing bad happened.” 

Your bruise may have gotten worse and you got lasting trauma. That’s okay. The Miya tweeds are paying for your future treatment again. She still seems to be unsure, though, and deeply ashamed. Your heart yearns for her. She doesn’t look like a bad person. She got you those drugs and everything. Isn’t there something you could do for her? 

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, “I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s f - fine,” you shake your head, causing your hair to wave frantically, “Serial killers are always the most charming, the most beautiful people. That - that’s how they deceive others, Nanako - senpai. Please, d - don’t blame yourself.” 

You hear a loud wheeze go through the crowd. Puffy’s wheeze. Wonderful. Can’t he stay quiet for the second? The adults are talking! 

“Did [Name]-chan call me beautiful?!” 

Is that all he got?! You called him a serial killer! A predator! Is he playing - You don’t even know who. That’s how idiotic he is. You can’t compare him even to anyone. 

“Shut up, Idiotkawa!” 

“Hey, Iwa-chan, that’s mean.” 

“It’s okay, Nana-chan,” another girl places a hand on Nanako’s shoulder, “We all got deceived by him. I guess it’s true what they say about dangers. They are where you least expect them. We will do better next time.” 

“He is garbage,” another girl nods, ignoring the outburst coming from Puffy as she names him _trash_. She focuses on you instead, reaching over to your hand, “Is he stalking you? Do you want us to take you to the police to report him?” 

Police? Huh. That’s not the route you wanted to take, to be honest. You bring your thumb to your lip, wondering. Maybe you should go to the police, only, let’s be honest. That sounds troublesome and you don’t want to deal with talking to strangers even more. So, yeah, probably not. Puffy is going to be a thing of the past anyway in around seven hours when you are away from Sendai. 

Ready to answer that inquiry, you nod determined. The word _police seem_ to awake both Puffy and Zizi from their stupid little argument. They finally notice the way your conversation is going. 

Zizi tries to move towards you, but he is stopped by a protective wall formed by girls. Whoa. You blink, feeling stars forming in your eyes from awe. They look so fierce and daring, ready to fight for _you_. You don’t think you ever had so many people on your side before. That feels unreal. They don’t know twins, they can’t do it to impress them, right? Probably. So, they do that for you. Nobody ever did something like that for _you_. 

That’s cool. So, so cool. Zizi, seeing that they are not going to let him through, stops and sighs profoundly as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks straight at _you_. He is talking to _you_. He is asking _you_ to have mercy on your greatest enemy.

“Hey, I know he is an idiot, but don’t you think it’s going too far?” he questions, acting so innocent and pure even when he talks about Puffy. 

Instantly, you see one girl gently offering you her arm and you take it. She gives you a little grin, promising silently that everything is going to be alright. You want to trust her, you do, so for now, you are going to try. With her support, you gaze back at Zizi and scowl. Okay, so you decided against going to the police, but now that he started to talk, you suddenly kinda want to go now. It’s petty and childish, but so _you_. 

Does he think you are a wimp? That you can’t decide for yourself?! Like, okay, you are weak as hell and would forgive people instantly if they said they are sorry. Puffykawa didn’t apologize for anything. He keeps on trying to - trying to - trying to _f - flirt_ with you! _Flirt with you,_ you repeat in your mind to stress it enough. That’s an unforgivable crime. Nobody flirts with you. 

You puff your cheeks and grasp the arm of the girl tighter. She nods beside you, a full-armored warrior ready to battle against those people in your honor. Oh, Cthulhu. You are truly a damsel in distress in this tale. That fucking sucks. 

“So you are okay with Oikawa-san terrorizing young girls, Iwaizumi-senpai?” you think it’s Nanako who speaks, but you are not sure, “Do you think it’s okay of him to do so?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying - “ 

“She was scared! And Oikawa-san didn’t care! You don’t care as well, don’t you, Iwaizumi - senpai?! He is so much bigger than her and he didn’t even hesitate! People like that are the reason we are afraid to go out after dark!” 

“Wait, I think you have misunderstood, Nana-chan - “ 

That’s karma. Wow. It’s really a bitch. Not for you, though. You want to giggle evilly, but you hold that urge close in your chest. The only downside of it all is that you don’t have popcorn to munch on. Truly, what a wonderful drama. 

You look into the present bag and spy something round and pink. You slip out of the girl’s arm and take it. You open the little package and find, very ironically, sakura daifuku. Well, fuck, who are you to complain? You take it, throwing the empty cartoon back into your bag, and start munching on it. Finally, one of your desires is fulfilled at least: you are no longer hungry. You are still a little bit cold, but it’s more bearable now that you can eat. 

_Can you?_ Well, you can try. What do you have to lose? Dignity? Ha, didn’t see that bitch in years. You bite down on the pink ball, tasting it. It’s sweet. Nearly too sweet, causing you to gag a bit before you swallow. Nausea and hunger hit you at the same time as you eat something for the first time this day.

Ignoring your desire to vomit, you devour the rest of daifuku in seconds. The girl, the one who offered you her arm, beams at you with approval. You swear she whispers _So cute_ , but you decide to ignore it. People are delusional everywhere, it seems, not only in Ina. 

“My name’s Nanako, not Nana! Not for you! I truly thought you are a good, talented person, Oikawa! How could you?! She is terrified of you! I’m going to tell Watanabe - senpai about it, don’t you think I won’t!” 

For a second, you think about licking your fingers but overcome that temptation. You have quite the dilemma on hand. So, with your childishness out of the way, you don’t wish to report him. You are a coward for that, but the thought of talking with officers makes you want to drown. Girls are still shouting, Zizi and Puffy are shouting back, it’s a shouting fest that starts to hurt your head a little. And worst of all, you see Puffy’s face. It’s a very ugly face of a very ugly man. And worst of all, it’s sad. 

It is just like last time. You want to throw your daifuku at him in retaliation, but you don’t, because, duh, you are not going to waste food at him. How dare he make you feel bad for him. He totally deserves it all and more.

_He looks so sad and pathetic._

“I will forgive him,” you finally hear yourself say. Girls near you gasp in dramatic shock, but Oikawa lightens instantly, so you flip him off to be safe, “I have conditions, though, you asshole. A lot of them. Will you comply?” 

What sort of conditions? You don’t know. You are winging it so hard you truly are shocked nobody notices the way your palm shakes. Wanting to appear a little more confident, you clasp them behind your back, your bag hanging on your wrist. 

“I would do anything for you, [Name]-chan,” Puffy smiles in a dirty, dirty way, making you regret ever pitying him, “You just have to ask me.” 

_Well, then._ Let’s start with the most aggravating one. 

“Give me the respect I deserve, bitch,” you furrow your brows at him dangerously, “I’m _Date-san_ to you. I don’t want to hear you calling me by my name! We’re not friends, you scum.” 

“Atta, girl,” you hear a whisper going through the crowd. The word makes you red, as a sense of belonging to this group of strangers washes through you. You feel a tickle in your chest on that thought. 

“That’s acceptable, Date-san,” he drawls his words, twirling one of his unruly locks on his fingers. Some of the girls show their true nature of Puffy’s fangirls, swooning and squealing at this. He smiles arrogantly before the rest of the group can calm them down. 

You can only feel contempt at that. You seriously dislike him. You should make him apologize for insulting Osamu and Atsumu. You should. But. But. But. That would be insincere. He should say sorry out of his own volition, genuine and humble. Not that twins would ever accept it. 

You tap your foot. _This means_ \- 

“The second condition!” you raise your voice, as people start to look at you with anticipation, “That’s going to hurt you more, bitch,” you challenge, venom evident in your voice, “Stop flirting with everyone.” 

“Oh, are you jealous, [Name] - Pardon, Date-chan?” he sends you a wink, causing you to shiver. That’s - that’s not what you meant at all. He is scary. So scary!

You flinch and that provokes girls around you to darken their expression. Cause - effect. Oikawa looks super out of his depth at that. Zizi punches him into the arm and so, he finally accepts, nodding slowly, before lighting up at some stupid thought that you hope he won’t - 

“For you, I will take any chastity vow, Date-chan!” 

-vocalize. 

You hate this fucker. Somebody throws a stone at him. It misses horribly but it makes you feel better. You sigh tiredly, as it is a time to voice your final condition. Only you have no idea what you are supposed to ask for.

His crime right now is only hugging and _f - f- flirting_ with you. That is not death sentence worthy, let’s be honest, no matter how much twins would argue in that regard. You wouldn’t mind just disappearing in the crowd, really, but who would you be if you didn’t use the situation to your advantage? Well, what do you like to do? Eat. Okay, okay, demanding food is always good and reasonable. What kind of food? You have a lot of sweets, so maybe bagels - Or - Today is your last day in Miyagi. In Sendai. Well, how about - 

“Okay, my last condition,” you nod seriously, “I want zunda. That’s what Sendai is known for, right? Zunda mochi. Oh, and bagels! Give me the best bagels you have! Only then I will forgive you and don’t talk with the police!” you proclaim boldly, before deflating as silence reigns over the road. You look around nervously, “Is that - is that alright with everyone?” 

“Of course it is, Date-chan!” Nanako clasps her hands, smiling encouragingly to you, before looking back at Puffy, “Isn’t it right, _Oi-ka-wa-san_?” 

“I - I’m fine with that, Nanako-san, Date-chan,” he pales as he gazes over the crowd, “It’s - it’s fair, of course, haha. I got a little carried away, I should apologize properly.”

You arch your eyebrow at that. You cannot even imagine him being sorry, so you wait, and so the girls around you. You wait for a second, two, three - Okay, you waited long enough. Where are your apologies? You stomp on the ground, way too impatient. He still doesn’t move a muscle. 

Dear Lord Cthulhu, oh, the Ancient One, do you see what bullshit you have to do deal with? One apocalypse, please. 

“So why don’t you do just that, Oikawa-san?” Nanako asks pointily, her tone irritated, “We don’t have the whole day to stay here. Date - chan is busy.” 

She sounds like your secretary and you are pretty sure you don’t pay her. You hope she is okay with voluntary work because you are not going to start giving her money. Your thoughts are interrupted when Puffy smiles. His smile is simply awful. He looks like such a bastard, magnificent bastard you would say, to the point you start to think he is an understudy of Washijo. Is he going to go all _according to the keikaku_ at you? 

“What do you mean, Nanako - san?” he starts innocently enough, still smiling this awful way the whole way, “I want to say sorry in private! If I say it around all of you, it will not be genuine enough!” 

_In private_. 

Your mind shutters as you try to comprehend those two words. In private. In the private property. You see red. Literally. He is _communist_! Quickly, you have to call the FBI - Wait, you are in Japan. There is no FBI in your country _officially_. Ghostbusters are not going to take your call as well, because there are no ghosts. 

You hear some cries and screams as people around you start to argue with Puffy. Maybe the wild crowd will take care of that follower of the fallen regime for you. Hiding his body will not be a problem, not with your expertise. Wait, that’s the wrong way to think about it, and not only because Puffy will end dead. You wouldn’t mind him dying, but you forgot one thing. Shittykawa doesn’t think like a normal human being. He probably doesn’t even know what communism is. 

Words _In private_ have to mean something else, then. _Let’s talk in private_ , you swear you read that in one manga. Was it criminal manga or shoujo manga? Logically, the amoeba would never ever touch something as sophisticated as criminal manga, so - 

You blush furiously and lose control of your knees. The only reason you don’t meet the ground are girls standing around you. They don’t quite catch you, though. It’s more like you fall on them and they have enough compassion to hold into you until your balance yourself. 

In private means-it means-it-means- only you and him! And not in the _let’s be friends_ style. It’s dirty, dirty, dirty and he is still flirting with you.

“Y-you were supposed to stop flirting!” you accuse, pointing your finger at him, “That’s-that’s not - and you call me _Date-chan_ instead of _Date-san_!” 

You knew you are forever going to regret feeling sorry for him. 

You wish Osamu and Atsumu were right here if only to throw some sharp object at his face. Very sharp. Probably too sharp. Fuck, at this point you would even take the corner of the book. Sure, it looks innocent but if you place it well enough such volume can be a deadly weapon. 

“But, Date-chan ~ “ he smiles like a total bitch, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes in you. You gulp, “I promised I will stop flirting with everyone. From now on, I will only flirt with you.” 

He winks at you. 

You are going to call the FBI on him. You don’t care that they are not in your country, you are _gonna_. Nervously, you start to bounce on your legs. Nanako looks at him and then at you. Finally, she glances at her phone, most likely checking the time. She curses loudly, a crass word leaving her mouth. It’s not worse than what you normally spew, but you find yourself baffled nonetheless. 

Wow. 

“Iwaizumi-senpai, you are going with them to chaperone,” she finally decides confidently, ending the discussion. 

You squeal, very much not alright with that idea. Nanako sends you an apologetic gaze. Oh, no, no, no, no, no! You are out of this! You don’t want anything to do with Puffy. _Alone_. 

“W-what?” Zizi stutters, flabbergasted. You are with him this time. 

_What. What. What._

You are a good person who watches her true crime documentaries diligently. You know what happens to little girls who are left alone with strangers in the middle of the road. So. Time to organize a strategic retreat! 

Haha, you would lie if you said it was nice. Your mama raised no liar, no, no, no, she didn’t raise anyone, to be honest. So, sayonara, arigato, Mister Roboto! You take a step back, but end up walking into somebody. You offer a quick _sorry_ , embarrassed. The affronted girl doesn’t look angry, she only grins at you softly. But that causes a problem. You cannot escape. Your protective wall became a prison cell. Fuckity fuck - 

“Do you disagree?”

See, Zizi, the Council just has decided your fate. It is not like you would go only with Puffy anyway. You don’t want to even go with him now, but well, what can you do? Huh. You can probably crawl your way out between their legs.But everyone looks at you. You bite down on your lip, deciding for once to be mature and responsible. You nod, even though you don’t want to and your wall starts to move slowly, unsurely, still glaring at Puffy. 

“Don’t worry, Date-chan! We are just around the corner!” 

“Scream and we will be next to you!” 

“If you do something, Oikawa-san, we will tell everyone about it!” 

“He is so dreamy, even when he is a jerk ~ “ 

You roll your eyes. Puffy’s school seems to be just as bad as Ina. Maybe it’s a teenager thing and you are just too dead inside to behave like them. Probably not and the one thing protecting you is Julius Galius Caesar himself. You wait for a little, letting the girls go. With them out of the picture, you take a deep breath, place your hands on your waist, and cross your eyes. 

“Zizi, come here,” you demand, your beautiful shoes firmly dug in the ground, “Between me and Puffy. Protect me,” and after a second of consideration, you add hastily, “Pretty please with the cherry on the top?”

You probably have something with a cherry in your bag of free goodies so you send him a small smile. You don’t expect to get the reaction you get. 

“Zizi?!” Thuggish Saviour flares up, his face red from the anger. To be honest, he doesn’t look super intimidating. Like, after you saw Kita’s glare and heard his tone straight from the North Pole, you don’t think anything but _flirting_ can scare you.

“Wha - why does Iwa-chan gets a cute nickname, Date-chan?!” Puffy dramatically throws his hands in the air, “That’s not fair! You don’t even call me Oi-chan or Tooru, or - Maybe Ru-chan? Ah, I don’t know. Everything said by you would be cute!” 

“Fuck off,” you say dryly, shaking your head. It doesn’t hurt half as much as it used to! Ha, who needs a doctor now, losers? “You are Puffy, take this dot of hatred and let’s end this stupid discussion.” 

The annoying flea strives to become the fucking Oriental rat flea. That little fucker definitely wants to cause another outbreak of the Black Death, because he can't just nod and get the hell out. Instead, he doesn’t seem to mind how you curse him out. He brings his palms to his cheeks, presses them, and _coos_ at you, acting like you are the cutest thing he ever saw.

“Why are even curses sounding so adorable?” the word adorable very slowly becomes an insult for you, “That’s not fair, Date-chan, not fair at all!” 

Absolutely disgusting. You wrinkle your nose at him. 

“Get your buddy a help, Zizi,” you say, cocking your head gently at said delinquent, “That can’t be normal. That can’t be healthy.” 

“Don’t call me _Zizi_ ,” he scowls at you, still being angry at you. A sweat drops out of your forehead, as you feel done with their stupidity. You are cold. You are hungry. You want zunda mochi. You want to go back and hug your friends. You want to have this whole ordeal behind you, “It’s too late for him anyway.”

Well, at least you can agree with this one on something.

Thug is pretty much hot and cold at the moment’s notice. More hot than cold, though, seeing how he blushes from sheer anger when you as much as glance at him. Really, is _Zizi_ such an infuriating nickname? You can do worse. You smack your lips. That’s a little mean of you. Well, you are an awful person and he is a friend of Puffy. He tried to protect him a little bit. To be honest, their relationship is confusing. There is a lot of bickering between them, insults, and violence spinning from both sides. Nothing like your healthy relationship with your friends. 

It will be healthy. It is not healthy now. Later, it will be! Or at least you hope so. After they apologize it will get better. Oh, oh, oh, and after they hug you. God, how many years ago were you hugged? If cuddling with ShinShin doesn’t count - wait, it was involuntarily, of course, it doesn’t count Zizi was manipulated, so that short embrace with him is irrelevant as well. 

It was _yesterday_ then.

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean, Iwa-chan? I’m perfectly fine. More than fine. Don’t you see that face?”

“Every time I do, I want to deck you.”

“You are such a brute, Iwa-chan. No wonder Date-chan doesn’t like you.” 

“Why are you talking as if she _likes_ you?” 

You can’t have nice things. Well, they have to suffer with you then. 

“Zizi, stop throwing a tantrum and come here before I call my lawyer,” you order him, glaring with the ferocity of a tigress. At that, Delinquent’s cheeks become ever redder, his anger easy to see. He finally moves, though, so you are ignoring that. You clap your hands and move two of your fingers in the general direction of Oikawa, “You, Puffy, stay fifteen meters away.” 

“But I want to get close and personal, Date-chan,” the brow haired bitch moans like a bitch he is, as he tries to come closer to you and Zizi, “You have to know my apologizes are super genuine, after all!” 

“Take another step towards me and I’m calling the panzer division,” you threaten, taking your phone out of your jeans’ pocket and showing him to see you are serious, “Bringing back the Desert Fox to kick you out of Africa.” 

“We are not in Africa, though, Date-chan,” Puffy unhelpfully points up, totally missing what you meant, “Didn’t he lose in Africa anyway?” 

“How dare you,” you glare at him, “He was not in Africa during the battle of El Alamein. He returned two days after it started.” 

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Zizi supports you, as he crosses his arms around his chest, “You remembered one thing from history and become so cocky to not notice you remembered it wrong. It’s not a surprise your grades are awful.” 

“My grades are perfectly fine!” Puffy shouts up the denial, “I’m the model student!” 

“That sounds like a fucking lie,” you shake your head, not being able to imagine Shittykawa as even a moderately good student. He is too much of a celebrity to be one. 

“It is,” Zizi reinforces your idea, “Are you not failing math?” 

“Everyone is failing math, Iwa-chan!” he tries to defend himself pathetically, but the two of you just look at him with disdain. At his, he sighs dramatically, covering his eyes with a hand and pretending to cry, “Stop bullying me!” 

Is that bullying or just speaking the truth? 

“I don’t fail math,” you mumble to yourself, “How can you fail math?” 

Wait, what are doing, getting chummy with the enemy of the state? You should be happy he fails math. You should relish this information. You should note it carefully, so you remember it ten years later when you finally get rid of him. 

“Hey, Date-chan,” comes the voice, “What flavor do you like the best?” 

You don’t think, you answer. 

“Matcha.”

Suddenly, you see the palm before you. Puffy offers you it, smiling arrogantly. He is Washijo’s understudy. He has to be. His plans are too intricate to belong to somebody who is not the ancient, evil overlord. 

“I will buy you matcha ice cream if you will go with me somewhere. How about that?” 

Does he even need to ask? 

“I’m in,” you nod before you can understand the words you speak. It takes a widening of a grin on Puffy’s face to comprehend what did you just say. 

_Bitch, you did not_. 

How - how the fuck? That’s the last thing you should do! Stranger - danger! He is so going to murder your ass, and you only got baited by mocha ice cream. How is it that possible the moment you hear mocha, you stop fucking thinking?! 

“Just like that?!” Zizi shouts exasperated, “How the hell did you do that, Trashykawa?!” 

“That’s because my sincerity finally won Date-chan over, Iwa-chan,” Puffy snorts, an awful sound that makes you want to vomit, “Don’t be jealous.”

“Fuck no, Puffy, I’m just a cheap bitch,” you scowl, lightly slapping his palm away, not wanting to take it. You fucked up, that’s true, but there’s last saving grace. You can turn it all around. Ruthlessly, you jam your fingers into Zizi’s shoulder, “And I’m not going anywhere without Zizi as my shield, you serial killer.” 

There comes momentary silence, as Puffy very slowly turns to look your savior into the eyes. You don’t have an idea what he is trying to communicate, but whatever it was, it fails spectacularly as Zizi growls. 

“I’m not skipping school to accompany you on the date,” he declares. You roll your eyes. Who said anything about a date? You just want mocha ice cream. And those promised zunda mochi. Wait, were you supposed to get an apology or something? 

“Iwa-chan, it will be fun! You can hang out with me, your precious childhood friend, and a girl as cute as Date-chan! And we know something like that doesn’t happen often for you.“

You grimace from second-hand pain. You can sense how much trouble Puffy is in with Zizi in the coming future. Or most likely, at the moment your hand disappears from his arm. 

“You are not skipping, because a girl asked you to - “ 

“You don’t have to, but I’m doing it! Okay, [Name]-chan,” you glare at him, “Ugh, I mean Date - chan, of course, let me take you on the best date - I mean, best outing you ever had in Miyagi.” 

“Fuck off, Puffy, you are our wallet,” you frown before you try once again to persuade Zizi. Puppy eyes didn’t work, how about good, old fashioned bribery, “Don’t you want to squeeze him dry?” 

His eyes shimmer as he turns to you. You grin mischievously. 

_You got him_. 

“That’s what she said - Wait, [Name]-chan, Iwa-chan, don’t leave me behind!”

* * *

Me, who nearly failed math at least three times, writing MC wondering how can you fail math: Hello, darkness, my old friend...

The scenes with Iwa and Oikawa were planned a long time ago. Like, MC was supposed to meet them during the first day, and then during the second, and then the third… Those scenes became much longer (planned in this chapter to leave for Tokyo, ugh), but they also will work nicely with our drama. 

Also, we return to bullying Oikawa everyone :3

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed ~


	38. In which the tea is spilled (figuratively only, thanks Cthulhu).

“I can’t believe we’re skipping school for a date,” Zizi stresses the word _date_ , showing the term the level of disdain you would feel in your very soul if you only didn’t sell it, “This is probably the stupidest thing I have ever done.” 

You want to point out it speaks poorly of _him_ if that’s the case. His life has to be super boring. He glares at you, acting like a mind-reader who just heard your thoughts, so you adhere to his unspoken demand, releasing oh - ever - so - strong grasp you had on his shoulder. He smacks his lips at that, forever displeased about one thing or another. 

Not that you are surprised. He is friends with Oikawa What-Is-His-Name. He deals with it by being constantly angry, you suppose, even if that’s super unfair to people around him. You mean you. It’s unfair to you. 

Well, at least he agreed to go get those stupid ice creams with you. Your gift bag merrily dangles around your wrist 

Puffy doesn’t care about your or his friend’s opinions in the slightest, not that you expected him to, as he bounces to the two of you, raising his finger to point in the direction opposite of the one you came from. 

“Stop complaining, Iwa - chan,” he chides his thuggish friend, “We all know you would never get a date with a girl as cute as [Name]-chan without me anyway ~ “ 

“I’m going to punch you,” Zizi answers and then doesn’t punch Puffy to your oblivious disappointment, “Do you plan to go to Arasaka’s for your date?” 

How dare he use the _D-word_ with such nonchalance? It’s forbidden to speak it under the laws of men and monsters alike. Your small, black heart is delicate, and can’t take it without wanting to slam your head against the wall. 

You don’t do that, though, as you are a mature person. Instead, you wrinkle your nose at Zizi, trying to show how much you don’t appreciate him acting this way. In return, you get a glare that probably works on people who don’t know the majesty of Shinsuke Kita. You are not one of these suckers, of course, so you pop your lips and throw your hair from your shoulder. 

“I would, but [Name]-chan deserves the best!” the fake K-Pop idol grins mischievously, his mocha brown eyes locked onto your, “We’re going to _OchaOcha_.” 

Are you supposed to be impressed? Well, you are not. Why the hell is he calling you by your first name _again_? Did you let him? You are pretty sure you didn’t. He winks when he feels your death glare 

“It’s _Date-san_ for you, Shittykawa,” you would step on his toes, but that operation is much more complicated when your target is walking on his stupidly long legs, “Less wasting the air, more walking. I want my matcha ice cream,” and then, you add mockingly, “Make it two more for every word you speak.” 

“Making him a bankrupt in one day,” Zizi nods appreciatively, as he slowly starts to take the lead of your little group. You hope he is guiding you to the mysterious OchaOcha because Cthulhu knows you don't want to take a long stroll, “Oi, Crappy Oikawa, I want sencha tea and tofu bagel."

“Bagels, bagels, bagels,” you agree instantly, bouncing with excitement as the thoughts of food enter your mind, “Do they have one with salmon? Salmon for me, please, and thank you. Are you a vegetarian, Zizi?” 

“Not really,” he narrows his eyes, “Get her tea too, Shittykawa, she is practically shivering. Oi, don’t you have a jacket with you?” 

“Wait, wait, wait, the two of you are becoming way too cozy!” Puffy inserts himself between you, shoving Zizi with his shoulder. You react quickly, jumping out of his way to not touch him, “Stop flirting with Date-chan in front of me, Iwa-chan. You don’t have a chance with her anyway! And I will tell you why!” Puffy dramatically points his finger in the direction of Zizi, totally ignoring your affronted scoff, “You are supposed to offer a girl your jacket like a gentleman. This is why girls don’t like you.” 

Yeah, he behaves like a real gentleman when he takes his uniform blazer off his shoulders and tries to force it on you. You roll your eyes. 

“Gentleman? Since when gentlemen touch women without their explicit consent? Consent is super important, you creep,” you murmur, deftly sliding under Zizi’s arm to hide from Puffy’s overarching hands, “This is why _I_ like him more than I like you.”

Regret smells like a bag of chips that you were supposed to leave for the next day, but you simply couldn’t. Now, you have an empty package, it’s three a.m., you have to go to school in four hours, you are ever hungrier than before eating those snacks and you suddenly have a mental breakdown because you lost control of your life and you can’t even eat your sadness away. 

This is what exactly there is a tingle of sadness in your chest when Puffy pouts. Not because you feel sorry for him, this time. No, you are a much simpler person - you just regret not thinking before you answer. Well, at least you have a plan for how to deal with this whole situation. It’s easy but quite effective. 

You will deal with this crawler stuck to your boot like that: eat ice cream, get zunda mochi, and slip away when nobody's looking. Maybe you will go for a cliche and be all _haha, need to go to the bathroom_ , and then you will climb out of the window like a ninja. That sounds so cool. You even have an emergency plan B. It’s very simple but deadly and merciless. Yes, if something goes wrong, you are going to call ShinShin. 

Zizi tries to hastily maneuver his arms, but you don’t let him, clutching into him as a sloth clings to being lazy. He glares at you, redder than a bus driver, but you don’t care at this point. Oikawa releases a scandalized scream at that, nearly dropping his white jacket onto the ground. Good riddance. 

“But Date-chan,” he moans pathetically, “I’m the one who - “ 

“You are muscular, Zizi,” you interrupt whatever Shittykawa wants to say to tap Zizi’s biceps with your finger, “How is it you are not more popular than that silverfish?” 

Poke, poke, poke. Very healthy male specimen, everyone. Oikawa screeches in outrage, which causes you to giggle as you lift your head to look at Zizi’s red face. You blink. Red face? Is he angry again? Why is he so angry? He needs some anger management therapy. 

“Stop holding onto me, Date,” he says with hostility, “I can’t believe I agreed to skip school with you. We are going back in the time of the practice, you hear me, Shitty Oikawa?” 

Well, that’s pretty rude. 

“Whatever, asshole,” you say simply as you release him from your claws. Clank, clank, clank - they echo menacingly in your imagination, “Just don’t leave me - pfff, excuse me, hair in my mouth - alone with Puffy!” 

You move to catch the strands of your hair as gale blows it chaotically. Your gift bag nearly is taken away, but you clasp it between your fingers hastily. That of course means you have only one hand to hold your curls which at this point means a tornado forming all around you. You wish you could turn back the time and make those stupid braids. 

“You are such a savage, Iwa-chan, really, you have to learn how to treat a lady!” you feel something slip on your shoulders, “You have to be gentle. Not that you probably know how to do that.” 

You groan, but finally decide to accept it. Never had any dignity anyway, you try to cheer yourself as you hastily slide into it. You fix it, putting it around your hair to hold it from the violent wind. Shittykawa winks at you again as he grins cockily and you shiver again, but this time it’s not from the icy weather. 

“Thank you,” you grumble, your manners as impeccable as ever. A way too satisfied smile appears on his face. You have to use all of your restraint to stop yourself from taking this ugly jacket off, throwing it on the ground, and starting to stomp all over it. 

Survival over pride. At least he is the one who is cold now. It’s another thing altogether that he doesn’t show any sign of being troubled with the weather. You shake your hand and twist your lips in dismay when you notice how small you look in those sleeves. You always knew he was taller than you, but now that you have this shit on, you see just how much. Chtulhu, fighting him straight ahead on would be painful and hard. You still would try, though. If you can get to his eyes, he is dead. 

It’s one thing to wear clothes of people you love and appreciate. It’s another thing entirely to wear something belonging to Puffy, the person you dislike as much as Hamilton disliked Jefferson. You sniff the collar of the blazer. At least it doesn’t smell like a rotten egg that you know Puffy is. If it wasn’t belonging to such an awful person, you could even find yourself liking the cologne that still sticks to the jacket. It has to be some expensive shit to be _so_ nice. 

“I’m going to punch you,” Zizi warns him harshly. The threat rings empty, as he doesn’t even move his little finger, “Add taiyaki to that, Shittykawa.” 

You bite down on your lip to stop yourself from cursing him out loud. Fucking coward. You feel a pout appearing on your face as you sulk quietly. The picture of Puffy’s punched face would be worth not getting matcha ice cream and zunda mochi. 

“They don’t have taiyaki at OchaOcha, Iwa-chan, you idiot,” the said amoeba quickly answers back, “We don’t have time to stop for Taiyaki! We also have to go to Senryu for zunda for Date-chan,” he puffs his chest, acting way too proud, “Did you fall in love with my thoughtfulness already?” 

You stop in the middle of the steep, one of your feet still suspended in the air as your brain stops working for a second. Such a thing should kill you, but life is brutal and full of suffering, which is why you continue to breathe normally even as your mind faces overload.

“Oh, you blushed!” 

You feel your temperature rising. Your own traitorous blood tries to boil you alive, imitating the boiling cauldron that Ishikawa Goemon ended up in. Hastily, you bring your palm to your cheeks, trying to cover them with those long-ass sleeves. 

_Love_. 

Okay, so this is what you know about love: Unmistakably, you love your friends with all of your heart. The Ancient Greeks called that kind of love _Philia_ if you don’t count Plato. Plato was always a hipster. He was all into _friends with benefits_ kinda deal, the pervert. Your old buddy, Aristotle, was better in that regard. 

You know Puffy doesn’t talk about _Philia_ , though. He talks about _Eros_ , desire. Romantic love, the one that appears in otome games and shoujo mangas or old tales. Going on d - dates, kissing, and other stuff, like, like, like holding hands. Or, there is a possibility he wants _Ludus_ from you. Childish flirting and playing, being all suggestive and alike. Well, he knocked on the wrong door. You land your leg on the ground at last and wrinkle your nose in distaste. 

You, being in love? No way. You _refuse_ to entertain such an abstract motion. Falling in love is for other people. It’s for Osamu and Atsumu, who deserve to be happy. It’s for Shinsuke, though you can’t imagine a person worthy of his affection. It’s for Aran and all of your team. No, no, no, that’s not happening, not now, not ever. That’s impossible for somebody like you. Okay, you had crushes on fictional and not-so-fictional people. So what?! You are just a human, after all, and you have those disgusting _feelings_. 

To top that, _falling in love with Puffy?_ Never going to happen. 

Both Shittykawa and Zizi wait for your patiently, talking under their breaths about something you don’t doubt is super dumb. You press your palms on your cheeks and then poke them in disdain. They are still too warm for your liking. You slap them a little, before looking at Puffy. 

“I wouldn’t m-marry you even if y-you were the last person on the Earth,” you say, trying to stay brave under his coffee-like eyes. You dislike coffee. You dislike it very much so. 

“Is that a challenge, Date-chan?” he brings his hand close to your shoulder, so you skip ahead, avoiding his touch narrowly. He doesn’t seem disappointed though, as he chuckles and continues walking, gesticulating wildly with his hands, “Then I vow to you that in ten years I’m going to be your third husband!” 

“I will p-pass, thanks,” you murmur, as you wrinkle your nose, “I don’t need even one husband, why would I want three of them?”

Does he think you are going to form the Sultanate and create a harem? Sultana [Name] doesn’t sound super bad, you have to admit. You still prefer the title of the Supreme Evil Overlord though. Or Supreme Evil Overlady. Oh, oh! Supreme Evil OverVixen! Okay, maybe that doesn’t sound as cool as you thought. You are going to work at that. 

“Well, you are going to marry Miya twins, right? Which means I’m going to be your third husband,” he waves his hand nonchalantly, “That’s okay, I will wait for you as much as you need, Date-chan, don’t worry.”

Marrying Osamu and Atsumu, yeah. As if any of them would want to spend their lives always remembering you rejected them for Kakashi Hatake. You still don’t regret your choice, but it’s embarrassing to remember. You mean, it’s Kakashi Hatake, who wouldn’t want him? 

“You are stupid,” you finally deduce with the tone of finality, “Probably the stupidest person to be ever born on this planet. I’m pretty sure you are worse than flat earthers,” you suddenly gasp, “You are a flat earther. You are the founder of the Flat Earth Society!”

“He is,” Zizi nods for once appreciative of your ramblings, “I seriously doubt there is something dumber than him.”

“Pardon me!” Puffy cuts in, his nose scrunching, “I know the Earth is not flat. If it was, aliens would never visit us.” 

“So you are an alien conspiracist. That’s probably worse,” you nod to yourself as you throw your hands high in the air, “I won ~ Sweet victory for me.” 

You hum, bouncing happily on the balls on your feet. You bring your hands right down to balance yourself better and the bag with goodies dangles merrily on your wrist. You giggle awkwardly. Thanks fuck it didn’t tip over or something. Yeah, maybe you should be a little bit more cautious if you don’t want your sakura daifuku splattered on the ground. 

A palm lands on your head, ruffling your hair tenderly and you instantly regret taking your eyes off Puffy.

“You know, [Name]-chan, you are cute as a button,” he whispers into your ears. Acting on instinct alone, you yelp and try to sway the hand, but it stays steadfastly on you, “I really wouldn’t mind marrying you.” 

His hot breath touches your neck. As a shiver runs through it, you make a wild gesture in his direction and execute an evasive maneuver, taking several steps and slamming into Zizi. You look at him for exactly two seconds, before you put yourself behind him, hiding once again. 

He sounds way too serious for it to be a joke and you are too young to marry somebody who is not looking like Kakashi Hatake. You desperately cling to Zizi, seeking protection from your Thuggish Guardian Angel. A long sigh escapes from his mouth, his face flustered from anger. You tug his blazer. You probably look pathetic as hell, but you don’t care. Not this time. Lord Satan, you hate Puffy so much. You regret being so reckless, so bold, and so fucking greedy that you agreed to accompany them. 

“Stop being a creep, Oikawa. She doesn’t want your obnoxious advances,” he says miraculously and you nod to reinforce his point. 

As you move your poor neck, you feel Zizi sneaking a glance at you. Or rather, he attempts sneakily to look at you. The actual execution of that endeavor is so atrocious that you start to remember all this shit about being a ninja and spy. He is even worse at that than you. Wow. That’s quite an achievement. 

“I’m not obnoxious, Iwa-chan, I’m passionate and handsome,” comes Oikawa’s answer, way too cocky and confident for your liking, “Date-chan doesn’t mind me.” 

“I do,” you flip him off from behind Zizi’s back, “I told you to fuck off so many times, but you keep coming back, you creeper! Minecraft creeper! When will you finally explode and leave me the fuck alone?!” 

Zizi’s cheeks are furiously red. Maybe, just maybe, people from Miyagi blush way more than anybody else in this blank, grey mass of tears and grief called the civilization. You have a lot of evidence to support that particular theory: Tobio blushed a lot too! Even though it was for a different reason. You are pretty sure Zizi is just angry all the time, while your adorable Blueberry Cupcake is just shy and full of alcohol. 

Waka, though, didn’t blush at all. Neither did Noya or Carrot Cake. Huh, you need more people from Miyagi to prove your thoughts. 

“See? She is just shy!” you don’t know from what universe Puffy is from, but you never want to understand his mind or reasoning. Is that what people call being in denial? You can act shy sometimes, but you are nothing but a bitch to him. He deserves that, of course, no matter how sad his eyes sometimes are. 

“You are an idiot,” is your guardian angel’s only answer, “Not every girl will find you attractive, you know.” 

“Hm? Oh, sorry, did you say something, Iwa-chan?”

You can’t help what happens next. You gently swing your head straight into Zizi’s back. His body resembles a wall enough to help you wash your brain from the rot that is his logic. _Common sense_ , you beseech in your mind, _Where thou art? Gone with the wind, dear [Name]. Please pay 19.99 to get access to the Common Sense DLC._

“Ochao is just around the corner, Date. Don’t worry, soon you will get rid of him.”

Zizi’s voice is a surprise, but a welcome one. He sounds nearly gentle. If that was anyone else, you wouldn’t hesitate to call his tone soft, but that’s Mr. My Anger Issues Have Anger Issues, so you will stall your judgment. 

“Iwa-chan, you are so cruel,” Oikawa blurts out. You clutch his jacket a little bit tighter at his voice. _Iwa-chan_ scowls at that, protecting you with this alone.

 _You cannot touch this. Cannot touch it, you hear, Puffy? No touchy. No touchy-touchy, you sick hybrid of-of a trash can and a spider!_ You don’t want to have any contact skin to skin with Puffy. You are perfectly fine with being in Zizi’s care, even if he is super angry at you all the time. You feel a little bit grateful towards him. 

You are going to assume he tried to help you. mostly because you don’t know for what other reason he would chide Oikawa for picking on you. Their relationship is more complicated than Zodiac’s code. He smacks him. He calls him on his bullshit. He threatens him a lot, but - yeah, if no that one _but_ , you would like him more. Zizi - or Iwa - supports Puffy and tries to protect him. He is not Osamu to Atsumu. He is not your reliable senpai, Shinsuke Kita. 

“Matcha ice cream for you, right, Date-chan?” Puffy grins, leaning towards you. You gulp, this time nearly taking Zizi into your embrace as you cling to him even more, “I will buy you three of them, how about it?” 

You stupidly want to nod, but before you even move a muscle, you are interrupted. 

“You are the one who was complaining about her being cold,” Zizi comments dryly, “Buy her something warm to drink, you idiot. We are going to sit inside. C’mon, Date.” 

“Hey, Iwa-chan, since when I’m paying for you?!” 

“From the beginning, you idiot. Hey, Date, do your idiot friends know where are you right now? I don’t want to deal with them complaining about us kidnapping you.” 

They kind of kidnapped you, though.

Wait. Somebody who is not Osamu or Atsumu kidnapped you again. They didn’t manhandle you, okay, but they still _did abduct you_. You - you don’t know how to feel about it. You are so tired, you want to go back home to sweet Alabama.

Amagasaki. You mean sweet home Amagasaki.

There’s a hand around you suddenly and you still, but it doesn’t linger. He only pats you lightly, coaxing you to move ahead. You take a deep breath and tear yourself from him as you are coming close to the small cafe before you. 

He takes the lead, thank Chtulhu, so you just have to follow him to the cafe. _Ochao, founded in 1879_ , proclaims shop’s windows in an elegant font in the English alphabet. Hm, it looks graceful, you suppose. Your mind instantly suggests creating a shop with its’ name written in Comic Sans. What an idea. If you live through this trip, maybe you will think about that instead of becoming a spy or ninja. 

“Don’t ignore me, Iwa-chan!”

You both ignore him.

Ochao is lovely, even if it doesn’t have that cozy feel of cafes from Amagasaki. It is very open, with big windows showing the interior of the building easily. It looks modern with no traditional Japanese furniture to be seen. That’s a curious choice, you guess. 

“Don’t call them idiots, only I can do that,” you whisper shyly into your sleeve, “We’re divorced right now anyway, so who cares if they know?” 

You care. Fuck. You tap your fingers on your thigh. You should probably send them a text message. The problem is, well, you wanted to give them silent treatment today. You still want to. And you are going to do it. Not try! You are deadass. No messages for them. No matter how much you want to. 

You miss them. 

Idiots. 

“Move already, Shittykawa,” Zizi furrows his brows at Puffy who snorts but moves to enter the little cafe anyway. The bells’ soft tune fills the air as he opens glass doors. He walks inside and waits, holding the doors for you and Zizi. 

You grimace, but nod in thanks and step into the cafe. From the outside, you already saw a lot of people in, but from 

Zizi spots the empty seat booth faster than you with his stupid height. He places his hand on your back and pushes you gently in that direction. You blink before you rush to that place, occupying the seats like the British Empire occupied half of the world. 

Zizi joins you shortly, choosing to sit in front of you. He takes his jacket off and puts it on his chair. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Humming lightly, you follow him, only you throw Puffy’s jacket on the seat next to him instead of placing it on yours.

With that out of the way, you set your gift bag between your legs and take your phone from the pocket. You unlock it with your thumb and find yourself looking at the staggering number of twenty-six unread messages. Most of them from the Miya menaces, because they are stupid and paranoid, but you notice that at least three from Suna with distaste. There’s also one from Kizuchi and another from Shinsuke. 

You take a second to answer Sara - saying good morning and thanking her for well-wishes before you go to see the text from Shinsuke. A smile tugs on your face. 

_Do you need my help?_

You quickly type back. 

_Im alright thank you ShinShin_

_Gonna be back in few_

_With zunda: DDDDD_

_Enjoy yourself._

The answer is instantaneous, making you think he was worried just as much as Osamu and Atsumu. He held off, though, remembering your little pinky promise. Warmth goes through your chest as you think about it. The finger that you tangled with Shinsuke’s pinky tickles you lightly. I _t feels good when someone trusts you_ , you think to yourself, _Really, really pleasant. If only Osamu and Atsumu could believe in me too._

“You said you divorced twins,” Zizi speaks up, spooking you into a small jump, “A-are you alright?” 

You don’t know if you reacted in such fright because of his voice or his words. You lift your head from the screen and find him awkwardly averting his gaze. Does - does he feel guilty for startling you? 

“We had a discussion,” you say hesitantly as you pocket your phone back. It’s not a lie, not really. A discussion is defined as a debate about a certain topic. This is exactly what the three of you did. 

Well. Kind of. You are not sure if you can trust him with your inner thoughts. Lord Lucifer, you are tentative about sitting with him. He is better than Puffy, but it’s not something very difficult to achieve. You are pretty sure you prefer Gintama’s company to Oikawa’s.

Zizi, you came to understand, is Katy Perry’s song. Hot and cold at the same time. He is protective of you and then, he spins hundred and eighty degrees, demanding of you to forgive Puffy. He is a nice person, and then he is not. He changes his mind as much as Osamu changes his favorite food. Every fucking second, that’s it. 

“A discussion resulting in the divorce?” he arches his eyebrow at you. You avert his gaze, sucking on your lip as you lower your head. 

“That’s what mama said when papa left for the milk,” you try to joke, making your voice as childish as you can, “He never came back.” 

You can hear a chuckle even amongst all of the voices in the cafe. For someone so stern, he sure has a pleasant-sounding laugh. And, you spy with the corner of your eye, a very nice smile as well. He should be more popular than Puffy. He correctly deduces you don’t want to talk about it and so, he grows quiet. You don’t mind that in the slightest. Yeah, not at all. Not like you are bored or something. 

Sighing, you place your elbow on the table and rest your head on your palm. You swing your legs under your chair lazily, as you look at him. 

He has unnaturally spiky hair, does he not? It kinda looks like a starfish. Starfish-hair sounds funny. Maybe you could call him that instead of Zizi. He is also very, very muscular - you don’t have to poke his arms again to know that. Not like Waka, though. Waka is a pure teddy bear and muscles. Zizi is more like, huh, peacock maybe. He uses his appearance to scare people away, but he is not dangerous at all. 

Not like Puffy, serial killer in training. Where is your food, anyway? You shift your gaze to the checkout, and yeah, he stands in the line. Magically, he senses your eyes and sends you a smile that a more naive person would call kind. You know better. You let a little breath of your mouth and turn around, back to Starfishie. He doesn’t notice your gaze at all, too busy doing something on his phone. Huh. That’s interesting. 

“Godzilla,” you comment on his phone case, “Interesting choice, you know. Godzilla is a metaphor for the nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.”

“Didn’t know that,” he answers nonchalantly as he hides the phone away, focusing on you once again, “I just like the films.” 

“Never watched Godzilla,” you tilt your head curiously, “Heard they are not good.” 

“You should watch them and decide for yourself,” he shakes his head and for the moment, you think you are about to face Dissappoitment™, but instead he cocks his head, “You may end up liking them. Can't decide without knowing. So what, interested?” 

“With which one I should start?” you ask him, wrinkling your nose, “There are so many of them.” 

There is. Thirty-two movies about the giant lizard monster coming from the sea and attacking Japan. Zizi knows them all. You are pretty sure he watched them more times than you saw documentaries about Caesar, this is how savvy he is with them. You - you hate to admit it, but you feel defeated. Your brain normally absorbs information easily, but this time you find your head spinning around as the names of actors, screenwriters, directors, and producers. Half of those people are completely unknown to you and he can talk about shit like in which film Godzilla was what height. 

He looks excited to talk about it, though, so you do your best to nod and smile, and encourage him to talk more. It’s cute how he is capable of rambling so much about a single character when he is such a curt person. Hot and cold, indeed. 

You wouldn’t say you feel relief to see Puffy finally joining you. He pointily ignores the chair next to Zizi and sits beside you, making you wrinkle your nose. You don’t comment on that choice though, too happy to see the food. Your stomach grumbles again. Embarrassed, you press your arm abdomen, trying to quieten it. None of them make fun of you though. Zizi doesn’t react at all, while Oikawa only grins at you in what you are afraid is an adoring manner. 

What the fuck is cute about being hungry? You blush harder. 

“For you, Date-chan,” he tells you surprisingly softly, as he places food in front of you, “Ice cream, just like I promised. With few matcha cupcakes. And bagels! With tea. You should drink that before Iwa-chan will start acting like mother-in-law again.”

“I will kick you,” Starfish threatens as he takes one of the cups in his hand, “Is that kukicha for me? I wanted sencha, Shitty Oikawa.” 

“Don’t complain, you freeloader,” he answers whimsically, “What were you talking about? You better not be flirting with [Name], Iwa-chan, or I’m taking all of it away.”

Your brain goes singlemindedly _Food, food, food,_ ignoring whatever Person-Who-Bought-You-Food says. You quickly check what you did receive. You count two bagels. Upon further inspection, you find that one is with salmon, while the other is with tofu. You bite down on salmon one, way too hungry to wait more time as you look at the rest of your precious food There is a steaming cup of green tea, just next to ice cream in a black waffle and two matcha cupcakes. 

“Thank you, Oikawa - senpai,” you nod appreciatively, for once deciding that this serial killer is kinda cool. He did get out of his way to buy you something nice, “If you ever find yourself in Kobe, I’m going to repay you.” 

_Please, never visit Kobe_ , you think at the same time. Without anything further to ado, you launch yourself back at your delicious bagel. 

“I think my heart stopped working for the minute,” you hear Puffy’s amazing voice, “You called me Oikawa - senpai? Hey, Date-chan, say it again? Or no! Call me Tooru - senpai, Date-chan, don’t be shy!” 

You have to swallow before you answer, so the prolonged silence probably gives him some hope. You grab said hope in your delicate, small hands and crush it without batting a single eye. 

“Fuck you.”

You would rather die than call him by his first name. _Never-ever_ , you promise yourself quietly as you wrinkle your nose, _Even if he decides to torture me in his basement for years, the freak._

He whimpers in disappointment before he pouts as he takes his food. For a moment he gazes into his milk bread, holding it as if it can solve all world’s unsolved mysteries. If so, you hope he will ask about how king Charles XII died. 

“I will come to visit you in Kobe, then,” he decides, instantly brightening, “You asked me out on the date, Date-chan. I will not break your heart by saying no!” 

You want to throw up at the smile he throws your way. It’s way too sultry for your liking, so you lean down your sit, and reach over with your foot. You kick him in the leg, making him hitch in pain. An evil giggle escapes from your mouth. Zizi sighs and whispers something about idiots under his breath. Rude. Puffy is the only idiot here.

“I’m gonna murder you,” you tell him calmly as you take a sip of your tea, “No, scratch that, I’m going to tear your leg apart from your body and when crows feast at it, I will make you watch it. Then, I will leave you to them to eat."

“So cute,” Oikawa coos in the response, totally ignoring everything you said. You hiss at that blatant display of brain damage, but that doesn’t deter him more than the defeat in Russia stopped Nappy B. from escaping from Elba, “I could listen to you being menacing all day long, Date-chan. Everything you say is so sweet.” 

You nearly drop your cup as you feel something touching your calf. You yelp at the sudden contact and quickly look down to see a leg. A leg that leads to a person, not just a leg. That particular limb belongs to Shittykawa Toshio. He is. He is tapping your foot lightly. It doesn’t hurt, but it freaks you out tremendously. You raise your eyes in confusion, wanting to send the S.O.S signal to Zizi. 

Puffy waited for you to do so. He stops you in your tracks as he shamelessly blows a kiss in your direction. For a second you sit in a stupor, trying to comprehend what is happening. He uses that moment to lean closer and smile at you. You wake up that and abruptly turn around, crossing your legs on the other side of your chair, grimacing the whole way as you hear him chuckle at your misery. 

“You need therapy,” Zizi comments dryly. He scowls as Puffy sticks his tongue out at that, before addressing, “Oi, Date, sit next to me.”

You don’t have to be told twice. For a second you are the Ghost Division, crossing the enemy land in a matter of seconds, conquering the seat in the month. No, wait, not in the month. You are mean in second! Okay, one way or another, you have a seat in front of Puffy now, which is good even if you nearly died at the hands of your gift bag.

That will make his life harder.

“Hey, that’s not fair, Iwa-chan. I said not flirting with Date-chan, you traitor!” 

As you thought, he doesn’t like it in the slightest, but his ire is not directed at you, but at Iwa, who takes the abuse with a shrug. You, meanwhile, flip Puffy a middle finger. 

Blitzkrieg, bitch. 

* * *

For the moment, everything is calm and silent as you reach for your food. Calm meaning nobody as much as blinks at you, as Puffy is busy screaming at Zizi. You ignore them as you decide to stress eat. You do it a lot in Miyagi. Dear Cthulhu, thanks to you, it will not happen for much longer. The last day in Sendai, finally. 

It was bad, but it was also good. Mostly bad, of course, you think absentmindedly as you swing your legs. You are going to Tokyo today. 

You traveled to the capital city of your country before for your contests, so you never quite had time to enjoy your time there. Never visited any historical sites or had time to enjoy the famous Akihabara district. You saw Ikebukuro, but that was it. Well, it’s not like you toured a lot of Sendai, too busy in exploits with the boys. And yeah, the boys. Osamu’s motion sickness didn’t affect him as much when you were driving to Miyagi, but you can’t help but feel a little nervous about him. 

The Miya twins will always be your problem, even when you are not talking with them, huh? 

“By the way, Date, why did you say you are divorced?”

_The-person-you-totally-didn’t-space-out-on-says-what._

“Yeah, Date-chan,” Puffy nods to the words of Zizi, showing once more they are friends after all, “I’m okay with that, just so you know.” 

He grins in what you hope is not supposed to be an encouraging way, because the only thing it encourages you to do is to call the police. 

Your ice cream is long since gone, as are bagels, so you grab your cupcake. You lick the green frosting, as you try to determine if you should answer. You probably shouldn’t. You know, oh you do, that the mere mention of twins can make anyone back off. The moment they disappear from the horizon, you are left vulnerable. But wasn’t everything about that? About not dragging them down to hell with you? If so, you should, well, you should tell them even if you don’t feel like that. 

“Ignore that idiot,” Zizi tells you, sneaking a glance like the agent of KGB that begs to be caught by America, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

Ironically, his words make you think you have to tell them now that he was kind enough to say that. You hum, dissatisfied with your situation. Well, you are in a public space, so at least there will be a lot of witnesses to your disappearance. 

“The present status of our relationship in the war with each other,” you tap your fingers on the table and take a bite of the cupcake. You chew it slowly, thinking about how to continue, “War participators? Childhood Friends - to - Enemies? Something like that.” 

“Former husbands,” Oikawa nods seriously, bringing his hand to his chin, “I’m going to buy you a ring as soon as I can. What do you think about gold, Date-chan? And of course, I don’t mind taking your last name if you are not comfortable with taking mine - Ow, Iwa-chan, what was that for?!” 

“Stupidity,” Zizi takes his hand back, his lips twisted in a scowl, “Take it seriously, asshole. And you, Date, start from the beginning.” 

“Why are you so interested anyway?” you ask, suspiciously arching your brow, “You don't like them, don't ever try to lie.” 

To be fair, that’s a perfectly normal reaction to the twins. You don’t fault him as long as his dislike will stay in words only. If he ever tries to do something or call them names. Well, you have all that criminal knowledge for the reasons. 

“I know them from the day and the only reason I don’t dislike them more than Oikawa is that I have to deal with this asshole longer,” he offers easily enough, not even trying to hide the fact. Well, you appreciate the honestly at least, “But I would have to be blind to not see that they care for you more than they care for themselves.” 

“That sounds like them,” you softly agree with him, stopping the little dance of your fingers to interlace them with your other hand, “I got flowers from the friend. They didn’t like that, probably because they are stupid, dumb idiots and so they burned them. And Suna, the asshole, mocked me for that!” 

“Who is Suna?” Zizi furrows his eyebrows. You snort, ready to answers, but you are cut out from answering by Puffy. 

“Middle blocker, Iwa-chan," he explains confidently, "The one you called irritating as hell."

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at that. You are with him on that this time. You didn’t expect him to remember Suna, to be honest. You don’t recall any of the players of his team, not counting Puffy and Zizi. You take the bite of your cupcake and see it disappear in suspicious circumstances. Well, somebody ate your cupcake and it wasn’t you at all! 

“He mocked you?” Puffy repeats when both you and Iwa stay quiet. You click your lips and lower your gaze, not fond of recalling this one memory.

You started it, as much as you regret it. That’s the perfect summary of your relationship with Puffy, is that not? Regret and eaten cupcakes. 

“He saved one hydrangea and started flirting with me, acting as if one flower was enough, as if, as if, I was being stupid and shouldn’t stop and just blush for him like a good, stupid girl he thinks I am,” you confess, stubbornly not meeting any of their gazes, “I met people like him before. They are just talking to you to have something to laugh about behind your back. They are not true.” 

The silence between the three of you is awkward only because there is so much noise around the cafe. People are laughing and talking, being happy. That makes you irrationally angry as you wish everybody would be just as hurt as you. 

Your tap your legs nervously on the floor. It’s embarrassing to admit you have trouble with that because the seat is way too big for someone your posture. You can’t focus at that, though. You think about Suna Rintarou, about how happy you were to have a friend, about how you thought you would never meet people like that again, about how you wanted to be a normal person who had friends and was happy. About how you wouldn’t have to be Date [Name], the shame on her parents’ name, the stupidest little sister, the strange bitch who followed the Miya twins because nobody else wanted her. 

That last one couldn’t be true, though. You were friends with Osamu and Atsumu because you loved them and they love you back, even if their love hurt you sometimes. _I wonder_ , a little grin appears on your face, _I wonder if my love hurts them too._

“You know, Date-chan,” Oikawa’s voice is steady and calm. With surprise, you note that gone is the sultry edge he liked to coat his words in, “I think I’m doing something stupid because I really shouldn’t help my rivals to your heart.”

“You are always doing something stupid,” you snap sharply, “Rivals to my heart? I already gave it away, you idiot.” 

_This year, to save me from tears I will give it to Hatake Kakashi again._ You smile to yourself again, not thinking about the manga character when you feel a hand on your cheek. You flutter your eyes as the second palm joins it. It belongs to Puffy because, of course, it does. Who else would stand up from the seat and lean forward, cupping your face, touching you without any second thought? You frown, not liking it at all. You try to swat his hands away, but they stubbornly stand rooted in their places, not caring about the violence you infected on them.

Fucker. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair of you?” he caresses your skin with a thumb and for the first time since you met him, the touch doesn’t feel, well, ah, s-sexual. Rather, it’s inexplicable soft and warm, reminiscent of the comfort an older brother should offer a younger sister. 

That’s what _breaks_ you.

He can’t know what it means for you. He can’t know about cutting words and jealousy, the toxicity your brother represents. His words go through your head and you try to understand them as you feel shivers running your spine. Fuck your brother. 

Puffy is not related to you. And his words? You wrinkle your nose at that. Unfair? Hello, you were the victim in this situation! Something has to appear in your eyes because Oikawa takes his hands away and sits back, his face morphing into that stupid, childish expression you came to expect of him.

“Goodness,” he says, shaking his head, “All of them are idiots and you shouldn’t talk to any of them ever, obliviously -“ 

“Hey, Oikawa - “ 

“ - but that would make you, my future wife very sad, so, [Name], listen to your senpai,” he looks back to you, surprisingly serious. You stiffen, straightening your back under the grave gaze that looks so out of place on him that you want to yell.

“Y - yes?” 

You bite your lip, very proud of yourself that you didn’t add _sir_ to that. 

“I don’t think Suna was making fun of you,” is what rolls from his mouth easily, as if those words are not supposed to shatter you further. You blink, once, and then twice, waiting for the punchline that never comes, “I remember him looking at you back when we met at the ramen shop. He can wear that bland fish face all he wants, but he wouldn’t stand up to protect you from somebody as handsome as me if he didn’t care.” 

You hear words. You do.

“Huh?” 

The thing is: that can’t be the truth. His logic is illogical. All of it was just a ploy. All of it was just a way to laugh at you, tease and ridicule stupid Date [Name], who believed she could have friends. 

Him calling you pretty. Him stepping ahead of Moon Tower. Him giving you sweets without even saying a thing about payback. Him catching you and him joking with you, smiling at you, spending time, acting like a friend. It was all just a game for him. It was! 

You shake your head, not caring about the smidge of pain that comes with it. 

“That’s not possible,” you say with a quivering lip, holding back the tears that threaten to spill again. Gosh. You feel like such a pathetic crybaby. Puffy, still not taking his eyes out of you, reaches over to place his hand over yours. You think about refusing to let him touch you, but the thought disappears as once again, he offers nothing but succor. 

“Cutiepie,” somehow even that disgusting nickname doesn’t feel quite as bad, “I hate to say it, but I think he likes you and just fucked up. Feel free to be angry, but I don’t think he wanted to deceive you. At least your reliable future-husband thinks so. Trust the man you will marry, Date-chan.” 

Your world spins around. _RinRin_ liked you? For your character? He - he - did? That’s - that’s impossible, right? Are you so bad at reading people that you can’t see through his sweet lies? He has to be lying, trying to get into - into your p-pants or something! He is nothing, but fuckboy, after all. You can’t trust fuckboys and serial killers! 

But Puffy sounds so sincere, so genuine, so kind. 

You want to believe him. You yearn for his claims to be the truth, but you know better now. How can you trust Puffy? He was not there, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand the humiliation you felt and the anger that still lingers in your blood. He didn’t even apologize.

“You are laying it a little bit thick, Shittykawa.” 

But did you give him time to apologize? 

“You are just jealous, Iwa-chan.” 

You didn’t. 

But, but, _but_! 

He just started to talk about crushes, Gintama, and calling you boss bitch, just like - just like you told him to. Your name rolling from his tongue without any sort of derisive edge. His eyes looking at you, calculative. Did - did you read him wrong? 

“You think so?” you question, feeling vulnerable as if somebody took all of your armor away and you are supposed to charge into the wall of shields without any reinforcements, “What if he tricked me?” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Date-chan,” he tells you easily enough. Somehow, you want to believe him even if you probably shouldn’t, “If he did trick you, then be sure to let him know those famous Roman torture methods, okay?” 

He winks at you and for the first time, the gesture doesn’t raise the hair on your arms. You actually let a soft giggle out of your mouth at that, the memory of how you threaten with the same words still fresh in your mind.

“Eh, can we talk about how shitty it was for those brats to burn your flowers like that? I should teach them a lesson for hurting my future-wife. I would never treat you like that, Date-chan.” 

“You would burn her friend instead.” 

“Hey, Iwa-chan!” 

Strangely, you feel comfortable for a moment, even if - even if you may be, came to the conclusions of Rin’s intentions too soon. Should - should give him a chance to explain himself? Should you try talking with him? You are not sure. There is a question you have to ask yourself. Do you want to try to be Rintarou Suna’s friend again? Or do you want to ignore him for the rest of your life and abandon the volleyball club? The answer to it is easy. Far too easy. You lift your head, determined. 

Huh? Blue uniforms? Yeah, those people are wearing blue uniforms belonging to the - 

“Is - it that the cops?” you raise a question, bringing the older boys’ attention to the newly entered guests who look around the cafe like hawks. Thanks to the crowd, they still didn’t see you, totally not skipping teenagers spending their time eating bagels and drinking tea. 

“Fuck,” Zizi comments. 

Fuck, indeed. 

* * *

Let me tell you, trying to write when all you can think about is playing the game is hard af. Got my hands on Cyberpunk 2077 and all I can say that it still doesn't crash as much as Skyrim did, but it's close. Still, enjoying this buggy mess very much!

So, back to the chapter. Oikawa redemption act? Maybe... Hope you liked those disasters there, lol. Had a lot of fun writing them, and we even see the less trashy side of Puffy. Don't worry, I will still bully him. And we bond with Iwa, who is still not a member of our harem. Yay. So, yeah, yeah, this chapter dragged a bit, but still, hope you enjoyed it.

Thank you for reading!!!


	39. In which the Great Escape commences (you thought vending machines were out to get you, but it seems they are not alone).

You take a deep breath, trying your best to clear your mind of negative thoughts. Wait, that sounds like you are trying to meditate in the middle of the cafe and that’s not what you are going after. You just want to stop thinking.

“What the hell is the police doing here?” Iwaizumi whispers fervently, leaning his head down, “Oi, Oikawa - “ 

“I don’t know,” comes the answer, “I never saw them here before.”

You scrunch your nose at that. The mystery thickens. Why are they here, then, if that is not their favorite place? Oh, Gods. They are working with Washijo, are they not? He blackmailed or bribed them into seeking you. He knows you know and he is going to eliminate you. That makes sense. Too much sense. He wants to get rid of competition and so, he chose the best time to attack.

A time when you are emotionally vulnerable. 

Yeah. Thinking right now is not advised at all, you need to stop this right now. So why can’t you? It should come easy to you. After all, how hard is it not to think? Well, way harder than you would think. Wait, but if you thought about that, then this whole thinking is already failing, is it not? You pop your lips in dismay, narrowing your eyes at the blue uniforms in front of you.

You don’t have time to ponder about Rintarou Suna and about how he may still be your friend. Your rebellious mind doesn’t listen to reason, though, still dancing the minuet with that fact. It - not you, of course, never you! - wants nothing more than to start to analyze your last encounter, to scrutinize every detail, and to understand what is happening in your life. 

You tear your hand away from Puffy (he gasps, the absolute drama queen) and slap your cheeks lightly as you try to stop thinking about Rin - Rintarou Suna, you mean. He may not be a fake friend, he may be true, he may care, he - _May, may, may_. You start to hate this word. You just don’t know and that is killing you slowly. 

The worst thing in this whole awful situation is that you can understand doing something dumb. You do things like that all the time, after all. _The road to hell is paved with good intentions_ is how the saying goes. 

Could that be what happened? You sniff, your palm still pressing your face. The motion that your friendship may be salvageable is overwhelming and you want nothing more than to hug your pillow and cry. 

“Is that really a problem for us?” Puffy questions stupidly. 

Even with Rintarou out of the equation, there is a second unsolved mystery of the day. Oikawa Tooru, whose eyes are widened comically as he looks at you. He felt sincere, warm, and comforting, nothing like a cockroach who attacks you in the middle of the shower, even as he chided you. He was not harsh. He didn’t want to hurt you. He just - he just wanted to _help_ you. 

X plus y means Confused [Name] Date. X stands for Suna. Y is for Puffy. Math like that is not for you. You don’t have time for this shit. Not with the cops being nearby. Haha, _you can’t rest, there are enemies nearby._

The police are exactly what you need when your life is such a mess already. Time to ditch this accursed place then. You take your matcha cupcake in one hand and start to reach for your gift bag. 

You stop in the middle of the movement. Are you even doing something wrong? You are not exactly skipping. You are on the school trip, there are not lessons and - oh, fuck, you were supposed to have detention, didn’t you? Did that end yesterday maybe? Shit. You don’t know. Well, Kurosu saw you leaving, the same goes for coach Oomi, so, let’s go with the idea you are not doing anything illegal. 

Your, ugh, companions, or rather your walking wallet and your personal shield, on the other hand, are in a problematic situation. Does it make you an accomplice? Please no. You don’t want to be associated with Puffy for your entire criminal career. 

You ignore confused gazes as you slide down your chair, trying to become ever smaller and hide from the police’s view. The situation is well, pretty damn complicated, not to add obviously uncomfortable. 

“Y-you are literally in your school uniforms, dumb-dumb,” you call him on that shit, the anxiety making you stutter slightly, “You have b-big trouble coming.” 

This is the keyword: You, Oikawa Tooru, and Iwazizi Name Unknown. Not you, _Date [Name]_. You are a girl with a pristine reputation, after all. In all of your life, you never had a problem with the police and you are not about to start. 

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan, Date-chan,” said the idiot, proving your exact point. He waves his hand nonchalantly, “I will use my charm to win them over if they see us.” 

He is trying to pass the fear in his eyes as nothing serious. You know better than that, though. His words are way too rushed and messy. You arch your eyebrow. What charm? Why does he behave as if his charisma is as high as Shinsuke’s? You are pretty sure he is in negative numbers in that particular stat. 

You lean down in your seat and use your legs to reach the bag of your goodies. It takes a bit of time and concentration, but you can bring it close enough to stick your grabby hands to it. You didn’t even tip it over. 

The more you think about it, the stranger it is. How did somebody like you avoid the hand of Big Brother for so long? You and the twins are not exactly, well, to put it _mildly_ , model citizens who respect public property. You are the complete opposite and the fact you never had any trouble with law enforcement speaks a lot about how skilled you are. 

Yeah, you are just so good at avoiding the repercussions of your actions. This is why you are the evil overlord in training, not Puffy and Zizi. That has to be it. You nod to yourself, determined, as you finally grasped this stupid bag. At least you didn’t have to go under the table for it. You look at both of them, judging them with your expert eyes. Yeah, no way you are taking any of them with you. You don’t like them _that_ much. 

“ _Hasta la vista_ , baby, I’m escaping,” you announce dramatically, stuffing your cupcake into your bag. That’s a bad plan, though, as the frosting will be everywhere but on your cupcake. 

“Did you just call me your baby? That’s so adorable, babe,” Oikawa says, returning to his sultry voice. You scrunch your nose at that, not liking the way he addresses you at all, “See, Iwa-chan, we are already on cute nicknames phase!” 

You are going to ignore that. 

“Shut up, Oikawa, it’s all your fault,” Zizi answers sharply. You really appreciate the way he can shit on Puffy in such tense situations, “If they find us skipping the school, what do you think will happen?”

They will die. Or they will be sent to the Syberia. _One of those two_ , you nod to yourself, _And the second option is probably way worse_. Well, you shrug your shoulders, it sucks to be them and it’s a joy to be you. 

“Detention?” 

Ugh, what a lack of imagination. You can’t believe you liked him for the second. You quietly pack your cupcake into your bag, trying to place it so the frosting doesn’t get destroyed. It’s impossible, you learn quickly, so you go for the second-best option, placing it in the package of sakura daifuku. 

“They will probably give us suspension from, you idiot,” Zizi cuts in, his eyes still trained on the blue uniforms who observe the cafe like hawks, “Which means no playing volleyball.” 

Puffy straight up gasps. You feel sweat dripping from your forehead. For a moment, you nearly can taste guilt on your tongue when you consider abandoning them in the near future. It doesn’t last long, of course. They are still kidnappers, no matter how much of Stockholm Syndrome you developed. 

Just. 

_Just_. 

That one line makes you think about Atsumu and Osamu, who breathe volleyball. Your idiots will probably die playing this sport and you are going to cheer them on, no matter how much it will hurt them. How can you take their love away from them, after all? 

How can a school do that to the students? Inarizaki’s headmaster would never. You roll your eyes. You can’t believe you prefer your weird-ass school to any other. 

“We have to escape, Iwa-chan, Date-chan,” Puffy stumbles through his words, not even trying to mask his sudden panic, as he looks at his friend and you seriously, “They cannot find us skipping school so close to prelims.” 

Prelims? Close? Well, fuck you, you know shit about those things. You yawn, ignoring this sudden conundrum, even if a part of you wants to take their hands and promise everything will be alright. They are not yours. You don’t have to protect them. You don’t want to _desire to protect them_. 

Telepathy, it seems, is something not only that twins possess. There is a quiet understanding between the two of them that you decide to ignore. You quietly leave your seat, the bag in your hand and your head lowered as you gaze over them. 

“Theoretically speaking, I’m not exactly skipping, you know,” you say softly, holding your voice quiet in order not to arouse suspicions from the cops, “I can probably just leave through the front door and nobody will mind. They will probably don’t even see me, cuz I’m a ninja.” 

A very pathetic ninja, but ninja nonetheless. 

“Come on, Date-chan,” Oikawa pouts, quickly reaching over to your wrist, “You don’t mean to leave your future husband alone with this brute, right? Let’s elope together.” 

“I would rather die,” you answer without hesitation. Oikawa’s mood becomes ever somber if it is possible. You don’t show any care, _you_ _don’t care at all about him_ , as you demand of him harshly, “Let me go, you idiot.”

“How do you even plan on getting away, Oikawa?” Zizi asks, ignoring completely your conundrum. You wrinkle your nose and poke harshly at the hand holding you, “They are not going to let us through the back door, no matter how delusional you are.” 

“There is a window in the girls’ bathroom,” Puffy informs you boldly, looking as if he is a kind senpai, not the worst kind of pervert for knowing that, “We can slip away this way.” 

Is he stealing your _plan_? The total original, belonging only to yours truly plan of escaping dangerous situations? How dare he. Your lawyer - twins’ lawyer, that’s it, okay, you are way too poor to have your own - is going to contact his lawyer and you will see him in court for that offense. 

What a bastard. Maybe he _is_ working for Washijo. 

“G-girls bathroom?!” Zizi stutters, looking super angry again. You try to _shh_ him, as he brings way too much attention with his shout. He refuses to meet your eyes, but quietens down anyway, “How the hell do you know that, Stupid Oikawa?!” 

Oh. 

_Oh._

Zizi is right. Why does Puffy know what is in the girls’ bathroom? He shouldn’t know that. You bat your eyelids in confusion, wondering for exactly one second until you stop, feeling a blush crawling on your cheeks. That sounds like a trick question! The reason is probably super dirty and f-flirty, and you don’t know what to think about it anymore.

The worst thing is that you still are held by that, that, that, _seducing_ hand. He totally killed somebody in that bathroom, damn it. You poke it harshly again. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“You are so rude, Date-chan, but that’s so endearing coming from you,” he catches your poking hand and interlaces your fingers together. You feel a shiver running through your spine as he stands up, releasing your wrist, but not your palm, “Stop being such a pervert, Iwa-chan. I was in this cafe before with Hana for your information.”

He raises his eyes to the heavens - or rather, to the ceiling. Zizi frowns. You have no idea who Hana is, but you already feel pity for her. No person deserves to visit a cafe with Puffy if their life is not threatened or they are not stupid motherfucker like you.

Wait. Something doesn’t make sense. 

“So you went to the bathroom with her?” you ask, as you try to tear your hand from his grasp. He finally lets you do so, and you hastily wipe your palm over your jeans. 

You lift your eyes at him and blush once more, as you understand the words you have spoken. _He was in the bathroom with her._ He was d-doing bad things there with her! Like, like, like, a double homicide. Or - or even worse. What’s worse? You don’t want to know! 

“Of course I did, I’m a good boyfriend.”

“What does this have with anything?” you furrow your eyebrow before you can stop yourself. That’s - that’s super dumb of you. Why did you ask? You should bite your tongue, gosh, you don’t want to hear the answer to that question. 

Mercilessly, he smiles at you. His hand reaches over to your cheek and squeezes it gently, making you nearly stumble into the air. You feel your cheeks becoming hotter and hotter as you look at, his very long lashes - how the fuck does he have such nice, long, dark lashes? - fluttering. 

“Well, maybe you will learn in the future,” he says, leaning down to you as he comes closer and closer, causing your panic to rise significantly. 

The tables have turned and you don’t like that at all. You start shaking your head, as you try to tear yourself from him, embarrassment coursing through your body. You are in public space and he is practically a stranger, and yet, yet, yet! You want to cover your face because you are very damn sure you are pinkish right now. He says things so s-suggestively, and h-his lips are so close to yours. 

You are going to scream. 

This is how your life ends. Date [Name], age fifteen, died as she lives, making stupid choices and regretting them. You hope at least your gravestone will be cute and full of unicorns. Who are you kidding? Atsumu is going to smear it with aliens, just to troll you even after you are gone. 

“Wait, Iwa-chan, Date-chan, that’s not what I meant! She was feeling bad so I - “ 

Well, what a nice plot twist, you are saved by a muscled arm of Zizi. Puffy releases you and takes several steps back. You don’t know when Zizi stood up, but you are very, very glad he did. You sniff slightly and rush away, creating distance between you and Oikawa.

“Don’t touch her if without her permission, Pervykawa,” he grumps out as he looks at your shaking silhouette. He softens visibly as you peer at him with your [color] eyes, “C’mon, Date, let’s leave.” 

He cocks his head at you and lightly slaps your arm, striding in one direction. You instantly decide that you trust this man with your life. 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” you agree easily, fixing your grasp on your goodie bag and following Zizi with the confidence you don’t feel. You don’t know what his plan is, but it is better than staying behind with Shittykawa. 

He strides way too fast. The crowd doesn’t open for him like the Sea before Moses, which is good. It would make the cops suspicious as hell. That way it’s less oblivious, but it’s annoying to maneuver between the people when half of them don't even notice you. At least you can see Zizi’s head. 

“Wait for me!” 

That’s Puffy’s voice. You ignore it, still feeling embarrassed. Why, oh why, do you feel so _tingly_? It’s unpleasant as well. You even hear your heart trying to jump out of your chest because of Puffy’s induced heart attack. 

“Iwa-chan, you are so cruel,” he complains, groaning loudly as the two of you don’t even spare him a glance, “Wait, wait, wait, what is your plan if you don’t want to follow mine?” 

“Shut up, we’re following your stupid plan. I hate you.” 

At that Puffy cheers instantly, childishly bumping his fist into Zizi’s shoulder. Iwa grumps in the response and you can’t resist the unkind thoughts from showing in your mind. He seems so freaking intimidating from behind. If you judged him by appearance alone, you would never guess he actually so pleasant. Well, you nod to yourself, you are not supposed to judge a book by its’ cover (unless this book has Caesar on its’ cover, of course), but you are only human. 

You apologize silently to the Gozilla-loving guardian angel. You are really unfair to him and that feels bad. You are going to blame his proximity to Puffy for that. You bring your thumb to your bottom lip as you gaze at the boy with the corner of your eye. 

Puffy is Jack the Ripper. No, you don’t mean he is British. He is a mystery to never be solved. You know him a little bit better now, and well, what you see is not exactly a pretty picture. He is like you in the boutique or a kid in a toy shop. Whimsical, moody, selfish. 

And then, he is genuine, nice, and mature. You don’t understand that. You can’t read him at all and that’s scarier than his flirting attempts. He makes you want to hide under the bed (not the covers, you mean literally under the bed), and then gives you hope and good advice. 

The worst is that you don’t know which side of him is the true one. Is he a kind person, cosplaying a playboy? Or playboy, trying to murder you by luring you over with something that is not there? Or did he play for so long he doesn’t know himself? 

“So you want to get into the girls’ bathroom?” the object of your thoughts voices, taking the silence as the agreement, “You are such a pervert, Iwa-chan.”

Lucifer in all, but name. Yeah, he is truly a devil, wearing so many strange, fake masks that you cannot help but remember the old concept of _Theatrum Mundi_. Life is the theatre, people are the actors. Oikawa with his slimy, fakey persona fits too well into that concept.

“Shut up! It was your idea, to begin with!” 

In the contrast to the riddle of Jack the Ripper, you don’t think you want to solve this personalized enigma. Caring for someone like Oikawa Tooru is deadly. He is already playing your heartstrings with the ease of the concertmaster. You don’t want to give him any other advantage over your poor heart. 

Huh. The three of you stand before the doors that are marked as the bathroom for women. Standing and doing nothing else. The boys look at you and you glare right back. They should go first, because - because you don’t want to. You decide to stand still and do nothing. 

“It’s not as if we’re doing something wrong,” Puffy tries to reason. You start to wonder how fucking deaf those cops have to be in order not to hear the ruckus he is causing, “We will just use the window. Date-chan will be able to reach it on her own, so we have to help her anyway. Stop pouting, Iwa-chan.” 

Did - did he just call you short? That’s why you don’t trust pretty fuckbois! You growl, taking your finger back down as you feel something encompassing your shoulders. The white jacket of Aoba-Something School. You look to him in outrage. He sticks his tongue out of his mouth, not caring about that at all. 

“Say goodbye to your kneecaps, asshole,” you hiss, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You have to kind of juggle your present bag, which is a bit hassle, but it’s manageable. With that done, you continue to death glare at Puffy, “You better sleep with your one eye open.”

“How forward of you, Date-chan,” he cries out, clasping his palm near his heart dramatically. You are not impressed and he sees it easily, so he clicks his lips and sends you a wink, “You know you are always welcome in my bedroom, future wife.” 

Of course, he would twist it like that. You groan. Your Honor, please just take the defendant away, he is guilty, guilty, guilty. Death sentence for making your ears becoming just a little, tad pink. 

“Stop, Pervy Oikawa,” Iwaizumi scolds him in your name, scowling at the taller boy, “She doesn’t want your advances, how can you be so dense to still go after her? No is no, you idiot.” 

“But, Iwa-chan, she is just shy!” 

Yeah, okay, fuck that. You open the doors of the bathroom and walk-in several steps, not looking back to see if they follow you. Instantly, you feel the judgemental gaze of the older woman on you. She is super elegant and her high-heels are so fantastic you want to ask where she got them, but bite down the question as you feel the hostility coming off her. 

She takes one glance at you before she wipes her hands over a paper towel and moves towards the exit. You hastily move to let her go, the boys - who entered after you, it seems - following you and letting her pass you. 

“Kids those days are really something. Whoring themselves to two people at the same time,” you hear her dismissive snort, “My daughter would never.”

Her words feel like a slap on your face. You lower your head, feeling ashamed over - over _something you are too afraid to speak of_. 

The tiles on the floor are so clean. So, so clean and white, and the blood - your blood - on them looks so repulsive that you have to take a deep breath to know, to remember, to understand that you are in Miyagi, Sendai, not back in your former school. 

Where are your friends? Why are they not there - 

_~~You should not fight. People will do it for you. Just bat your pretty little eyes at them. Disgusting.~~ _

Your brother, always so proud and always so much better, always wanting more and more until you couldn’t give anything anymore. 

_~~Aren’t you a little too dependent on them? That’s honestly pathetic.~~ _

The restaurant, all of those fancy people looking at you, evaluating you with derisive gazes and cutting words. 

_~~Dependent on them so much, Date. You are so pathetic.~~ _

Blood pours from your nose, from your mouth, from your head. Her, her, her, just her, standing before you, the demon from your past, the person who made your life a living hell, the destroyer who took it all from you, the savior who opened your eyes - 

The color of the walls was even eerily similar, you think absentmindedly. Are all bathrooms the same? Are all women the same? No, they cannot be, Sara is not like that, even Nanako was not like that - 

But why? Why did you she call you a -

 _Whore._ You hear in the corridor.

 _Whore._ Written on your desk.

 _Whorewhorewhorewhorewhorewhore._ She whispers into your ears, laughing, laughing, laughing.

“Are you jealous?” comes Puffy’s leering jeer, “Oh, don’t mind, don’t mind ~ We understand you are petty because you never got enough attention. Don’t worry, I would rather die than touch you.” 

You blink rapidly as the woman snorts. You look at her, at her immaculate appearance, her light brown hair, her elegant suit and - she is not _her_. She is somebody else. Those words are not only _hers_. They belong to your brother, they belong to Moon Tower, they belong to _her_ and a million other people. They all call you the same, over and over again, and you are tired of feeling so miserable, tired of being stomped on. 

The idea from yesterday rings in your head: just close the door. Just hide. Just resign. It will be so much easier, [Name]. 

So why? Why do you wish you could react? You want to - you want to say something, anything, not just stand there with lowered head in a shame you shouldn’t feel.

“All three of you should be ashamed,” the woman declares, her head held high as she passes over you, “To behave like that when you are so young. You don’t have any future ahead of you, girl.” 

But you _can’t_. It is rooted so deeply in your head that even as you try to change, you hit the wall. You can’t even move as she slams the door shut behind her, leaving the three of you alone. 

“What a bitch!” Puffy huffs, releasing air from his mouth, “Who does she think she is?! How could she - “ 

“Calm down, Oikawa,” you hear Zizi snapping back at him. Your feel your hands tremble. You cannot stop them from moving, so you just observe them, feeling so empty and lost. One words burns, burns, burns like a fire in your head, leaving you in ashes. 

How - how could she? Why would she? What did you even do wrong to her to react in this matter? You did nothing wrong, right? Right?! 

“Date-chan?” 

She just lashed out at the three of you, because you walked into the fucking bathroom. Bathroom. She did it over the bathroom. And yeah, it’s not something normal for boys to enter the girls’ bathroom, but maybe you have an emergency. Maybe you are dying and need them. Why does she have to comment on that with such a derisive tone? Why does she have to wake all of your demons for that? 

_You did nothing wrong._

_Nothingwrongnothingwrongnothingwrong._

“Let’s just go,” you whisper into the abyss, “Before this - this hag comes back.” 

The abyss speaks back.

“[Name]-chan.” 

“Oikawa, stop that - “ 

Your name. You hear your name. You are [Name] Date, fifteen years old. You are in Miyagi, Sendai. But you are [Name] Date, fourteen, and your blood stains the tiles of the floor in your school. 

“[Name], listen to me.” 

Somebody touches you and you flinch, you recoil, you run. You try, try, try. The hand keeps you in place, though, not letting you go. It’s strangely warm for something that is there to hurt, but you know, oh, you know that she can be like that. Warm to become cold in seconds, the cruelty is hidden in her kindness and her _laugh_.

You scream, _but you don’t_ , your lip bitten to the point you feel the blood in your mouth. 

“Hey, it’s okay, [Name].”

It’s not. It’s never okay. Was not okay. Will not be okay. Liar, liar, liar, pants on fire. You lift your head, afraid to see the monster from your memories, but it’s not her. Mocha eyes. Mocha hair. Oh, it’s Puffy. Oh. Yeah. Puffy. You remember Puffy.

“Okay,” you murmur softly, “Okay, okay, I believe you.” 

You lie. You don’t, but you don’t have time. You don’t have time. You don’t have time. You don’t. You have to get out, to run, to disappear before she comes back, and with her all you want to forget. You eye the older boys before you look over to the window. It is there alright. Both Zizi and Puffy will not have a problem climbing over if they jump, but you are another matter altogether. 

“Give me a boost,” you demand, not caring for their stunned expressions at your fast recovery, “Before she comes back.” 

You pat Puffy’s hand on your shoulder and look him straight into his eyes, channeling your inner Napoleon, commanding like Caesar. You send a silent prayer to them and you try your best to look fierce and reckless, even when you don’t feel like that. 

“[Name]-chan,” the amoeba whispers breathlessly, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Then give me a boost already, you dumb-dumb,” you wrinkle your nose, way too fed up with everything around you to deal with any of that. Everything is awful and everything hurts. You want out of this stupid prefecture, “Hurry up, senpai.” 

The word _senpai_ works better than the word _money_ works on politicians. He crouches down, giving your clear access to sit on his shoulders. You hesitate for the second, but there’s a challenging glint in Puffy’s eyes that you can’t resist. Asshole, you think to yourself and roll your eyes. 

If he thinks your determination will disappear, then he is wrong. You have no time, you have to get out, out, out, out. With anxiety simmering under your skin, you place yourself on his shoulders. If you kick him on the way, that’s purely accidental and if somebody dares to claim otherwise you are very much capable of giving such a person to the mind flayers. 

Puffy stands up and you hold onto his hair, probably pulling it way too hard in order to steady yourself. He doesn’t complain about your rough methods, bearing the abuse of his locks with the dignity you didn’t expect of him. That doesn’t change your opinion of him, but you feel a bit of relief to not hear him complaining. 

Now only if he could take his hands away from your thighs… Did he squeeze it?! Fuck, fuck, fuck, operation on hold, that was not supposed to happen, you shouldn’t ever think the flea would be a good horse. 

Thank you, Cthulhu, that the window is not so far. He walks over to it obediently and you fastly climb over it, abandoning him faster than people abandoned Titanic. You take a deep breath as you balance yourself on the windowsill and reach the handle of the window. Those losers from the cafe didn’t even close it, making it a smooth sail to sneak off the premises like ninjas or spies. 

“Not closed,” you inform Zizi and Oikawa calmly, “Scouting ahead.” 

You crawl your way out of the window and lean, trying to estimate if the jump is survivable. It definitely is, even if it’s a little bit too big for your taste. At least the ground is not concrete, but soft, lovely earth. You can make it. 

Probably. 

“Jeroy Lenkins,” you say to nobody in particular, trying to encourage yourself desperately, “Or was that Leroy Jenkins? Who cares,” you shake your head, yelling back to the boys in the bathroom, “Going ahead, Puffy, Zizi! Geronimo!” 

You salute them with two of your fingers in the final goodbye as you swing your legs out of the edge. Puffy breathes out loud, looking at you as if you promised him the stars. You are pretty sure you didn’t, so you ignore him. Zizi, who stood in a daze, finally moves. You hear him shouting something, but you don’t care. 

You push yourself over the edge. 

Yeah. Not your brightest idea. The impact shakes your bones and you find the landing painful, but bearable. Okay, so your knees are probably scrapped to hell and back, but you can still stand up. Maybe. You do that shakily, feeling an ache from your abdomen. The infamous bruise hurts like one mean bitch, but you are mostly unharmed, you think. Or you hope to. Gods, maybe you are not made to be a ninja or spy after all. 

There is a resounding _thud_ as something - or rather, someone - lands next to you. Puffy sends you a cheeky smile as he stands up, throwing his hands into the air. 

“Perfect landing!” he announces to the world loudly, the perfect picture of the vanity. A small giggle leaves your mouth, making him wink at you, “Nothing as graceful as you, though, Date-chan. You are amazing.”

The compliment lands on the empty ears as you are pretty damn sure there was nothing _graceful_ about your jump. 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” you recite as you start to stretch your tired bones, making sure everything is fine, “If you have to lie, then at least try something plausible, Puffy.” 

“You wound me, Date-chan,” he pouts childishly, “I really would love to marry you, you know. I can get you a ring with a big diamond, what do you say?”

“I will say _Fuck off, freak_ ,” you smile at him, “I’m not _so_ cheap.” 

His pathetic groan nearly masks the noise of Iwaizizi’s landing. You look at him over your shoulder and wrinkle your nose at the face he pulls. He looks like disapproval personalized which doesn’t spell good things. 

“You two are complete idiots,” Zizi says, a prominent scowl on his face as he faces both you and Puffy, “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

“More than you will ever know,” you snap back, turning around and placing one of your palms on your waist, “You are the one who was in trouble! I just solved that stupid mess for you! You nearly got into the trouble with the police, damn you stupid starfish head.” 

“Starfish head?!” Zizi yells out, his hand coming to his forehead in exasperation, “Wait - wait, I’m not talking about that! Why didn’t you wait for one of us to first and catch you?! And that woman - are - are you alright?!” 

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t know I have to ask you for permission,” you scowl in the return, ignoring his last question, “I will be sure to do it next time some bitch calls me a _whore_.” 

The word burns your tongue. It taints your thoughts. You want to cry. You want to cry so fucking much, but you are not going not, you cried enough, you will not them win, you will not. 

“Are - are you alright?” Zizi asks, suddenly looking very much repentant, “Listen, I didn’t mean to shout at you, just - “ 

“Calm down, Date-chan, Iwa-chan.” 

The sheer adoration that comes from Puffy towards both you and Zizi is sickening. You wrinkle your nose, not wanting to calm down. Your emotions still run high, the woman’s words running through your head and you just want to run away, never look back, disappear from the map. _Argentina Plan_ , you hold desperately onto that, _I’m going to Argentina, fuck all._

Zizi didn’t say anything like that, though. He may not trust you, just like Osamu and Atsumu don’t, but he - he doesn’t know you. Not truly. You don’t know him as well. _Gosh_. You are going to be a mature one now. He should be the one to apologize first, he is the older one! He is the babysitter. Why do you have to take the first step? 

You hate this. You hate your life. You hate Miyagi and want to burn this place to the ground. One restaurant was not enough. 

“I’m okay, senpai,” your lips form a thin line, “I - I’m perfectly fine. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.” 

That’s a load of bullshit, but you cannot tell him the truth. He is not your friend, no matter how neat he is. You wish Osamu and Atsumu were with you, even if only to cover you with their back. You miss them. You miss them so much. 

You lift your eyes to look at him and observe as something in him softens. He is not a bad guy, you think, as you remember the fever-like way he talked about Godzilla. Godzilla fans cannot be bad people. You don’t make this up, this is according to the law. You don’t make the rules, you just enforce them. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t go like that at you,” he rubs his head awkwardly, his face finally returning to its natural color, “That woman was definitely full of shit. She is even worse than Shittykawa and I just - I overreacted. I guess being near Oikawa stresses me out.” 

You nod. You can totally understand that. Being near Puffy stresses you out as well. 

“Whoa, Iwa-chan, did you just apologize?” the said idiot exclaims, his face puffing. Very fitting, you suppose, for the person who looks like a puffy fish. Very venomous, have to be cooked to eat. Huh. Maybe it’s a sign from heaven to burn him on the stake. 

“S - shut up, Oikawa!” Zizi moves, slamming his open palm on Puffy’s back. Mocha eyed one recoils, hastily putting his hands on the aching part of his body. 

“Ow! Why are you hitting me, you brute?” he screams but lowers himself when Iwa furrows his eyebrows dangerously, “Okay, okay, let’s go to Senryu instead of arguing, okay?!” he says hastily. 

You blink, not understanding. Senryu? Why? You want to go back to the twins - but you are in the war with the twins. You cannot go to them, you cannot get a hug, you cannot - this is what you wanted. Independence. Chthulu, it sucks so much. 

You could go to Shinsuke, but you don’t want to lean at him so much. You don’t - you don’t know, it feels - it feels like you are a burden to him, and that’s the last thing you want. He deserves better than that. 

“I will buy you whatever your heart desire, my cute future-wife.”

You look at the amoeba. You don’t feel familiar anger at the words _future-wife_ , only a silken like a touch of the wind on your neck. You - you can’t get Puffy. He is a mystery, one you will never solve, but you think he does not say it to mock you. It’s - it actually feels soothing. 

Is he trying to comfort you? 

“Zunda mochi, please, senpai,” you murmur, feeling a bright smile breaking onto your face. You don’t understand him, but that’s okay, you think, “Can I have some, please?” 

His lips twist in a breathtaking smile that doesn’t seem to be sultry or flirty, just plain nice. You can’t help but think that he looks much more attractive like that. Nearly genuine. You could befriend a person like that. 

“All zunda mochi you want,” he nods fervently, way too excited for the occasion to pay for someone else’s expenses, “For you, I can buy out the whole shop, Date-chan. Let’s go!” 

He offers you his palm. You look at it hesitantly, not keen on taking it, even if you think of him a little bit fonder. You don’t feel comfortable, but that seems, well, rude to say after he promised you the whole world. Okay, he only promised you the whole shop, but the sentiment stands. 

You fidget nervously and it all it takes for Zizi to slap Oikawa’s hand away. 

“Hey, Stupidkawa, I want a milkshake,” he says grumpily, “The big one, not that stupid small cup. It always leaves me more thirsty.” 

“Wait, since when I’m buying something for you too?!” 

“From the very beginning.” 

You giggle as you follow after them, bouncing on your feet. 

* * *

It takes two hours for you to return to the hotel. You tap your feet against each other, not truly believing you survived and returned victoriously. Did you squeeze Puffy’s wallet dry? Oh, hell yes, you absolutely did. The best evidence you have on hand are three bags full of little souvenirs and food. You don’t even count the bag you got from Aoba Something’s girls. 

Their weight is super satisfying to carry. Miyagi’s people are insane. They have so many things with zunda. Milkshakes, cakes, mochi, pocky sticks, zunda snacks are everywhere. It’s raining soybeans in Sendai and you are all for that. 

You are not all for, you want to stress it out, you are _not_ for Puffy’s company. He returned to being annoying and flirty, making you think that the serious and genuine part of him was only a mirage in the middle of the desert. You are very glad Zizi was with you to snap back at him and defend you. If you could, you would grant him a knighthood already. 

But yeah, you wanted to go back to the hotel on your own. Wanted to. The idiot insisted to take you all the way back, which was not needed at all. You can definitely go back without losing your way. Yeah, you would not get lost at all! Haha. You appreciated that a little. Just a tiny bit. 

“Well, Date-chan, we’re here,” Puffy says, his tone full of fake sorrow, causing you to roll your eyes at the melodramatics, “You are leaving today, aren’t you?” 

You drink the rest of your zunda milkshake, nodding. It’s so _mushy_. Osamu would love this, you think idly, looking back at the intimidating building of your hotel. He is there with Atsumu. And, you bounce on the balls of your feet, with Suna. You don’t know how to feel about that.

Still, you have to be brave. You need to go in. 

“Thanks for snacks, Puffy,” you tell him, throwing the empty now cup to the nearby trash, “Bye-bye.” 

You give him a lazy wave and turn around, ready to skip back ahead, no matter how complicated your feelings towards your team are right now. You are stopped by Puffy, who looks at you so earnestly you feel guilty for ignoring him. Gosh, you cannot believe you spend half of the day with this sociopath and survived. He is so good at manipulating people. 

“Let’s exchange numbers to keep in touch, okay?” he asks, sending you a sultry smile, “It would be a pity to not continue our relationship because of the distance.” 

What relationship? You shake off his grasp and stiffen your back as you look straight into his mocha eyes. His eyelashes are really, really pretty and you hate that his nonexistent charm is getting to you. 

“No way in hell.” 

You are still steady in your answer, though. You even smile sweetly, beckoning forward the image of the cruel demon into your persona. 

“Oh, c’mon, Date-chan, please?” 

Does he really think please will do the trick? Pathetic. You reach to his cheek and slap it gently, nearly fondly as you repeat.

“No. Fuck off.”

His mood instantly dampens as his shoulders slouch down. You don’t feel bad, you don’t feel bad, you don’t feel bad! You are not giving him your number, no matter how awesome his eyelashes are. Seriously. 

“You deserve it, Stupidkawa.”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan!” Puffy shakes his head violently, before clasping your hand in his. His eyes lock onto yours. The intensity of his gaze is going to cause you a heart attack, “Please, Date-chan? Did you not enjoy our date?” 

You are pretty sure it was not a date. Nobody would want to go on date with you without some kind of stupid plot. Why does he even need your phone number? Is he going to sell it to the corporations so they will call you every fucking second? Well, too late, you are pretty sure that your phone operator did that already. 

“Are you trying to bribe me, Puffy?” you ask him, scrunching your nose in suspicion, “Cuz it means you didn’t want to spend time with me, just wanted to use me. That’s not cool. Uncool. Super lame.” 

“N-no, that’s not it!” he denies way too fast, raising his hands defensively as you continue to bore holes into him with your eyes, “I - I - just - “ 

You cross your arms around your chest. You hope Puffy doesn’t play _Among Us_ , because he would be a shitty Imposter. Wait, no, Imposter? This guy probably can’t even play a Traitor in _Garry’s Mod_. Isn’t it really ironic that somebody who is basically Dr. Jekins and Mr. Hyde can’t lie at all? 

“Uhu-uhu,” is what leaves your mouth in answer, “You are trying to guilt-trip me. Or gaslight me. Or manipulate me. Or - “ 

“No!” he cuts in, sweating profusely, “I swear I would never, Date-chan!”

You roll your eyes as you close the case. Seriously, you should expect that. He is Washijo’s understudy and the serial killer in training. Femme fatale, but male, so Don Juan! Only not Spanish. Or at least think he is not Spanish. He totally looks Japanese. His name sounds Japanese. He doesn’t have an accent. He can’t be Spanish.

Or can he? 

Okay, okay, stop that train, [Name]. You have more important things to worry about. Like totally not getting influenced by Puffy’s pout. Disgusting. 

“You would, Trashykawa,” Zizi comes to your rescue again. His tone is as grumpy as ever, but to you, it sounds like Beethoven’s _Moonlight Sonata_ , “Stop behaving like complete trash. She doesn’t want to give it, move on.” 

“Stop calling me a trash, Iwa-chan,” Puffy glowers right back, “I know that Date-chan is just a little bit shy. I understand it, so - “

Dear Cthulhu, he wouldn’t recognize a tank even if it was driving straight at him and accompanied by _Primo Victoria_. Or he would just laugh at it. Jesus Christ, he probably would. It’s not like he is stupid. He is just stupidly stubborn and wants to remain blind for some dumb reason. 

Moron. 

You don’t want to give him whatever he wants, no matter how nice and kind he was to you. Yes, you got a nice memory out of meeting him and Zizi, but that one memory has to end now before you find yourself in the shallow grave and with a hole in your brain. 

So. 

What’s the best way to get rid of him? 

You narrow your eyes at him and he smiles as if he thinking you suddenly changed your mind. You didn’t. You feel an evil grin forming on your face as the idea takes shape in your big brain. Your eyes are still interlocked with Puffy when you poke the muscled arm of Iwaizizi. 

What is better than escaping the enemy unscathed? Counterattacking and destroying their morale, of course. 

.“Hey, Zizi, give me your phone,” you demand boldly. The protozoan’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth in shock. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and shift your attention to Zizi. 

“Huh?” your guardian angel blinks in surprise, not moving a centimeter. You tap his shoulder again, wanting him to hurry and with arched eyebrows, he reaches to his pocket and unlocks it, before handing it into your hands. 

You doubt Zizi will use your number for bad reasons. He will also not give it to Oikawa. This one, you know with certainty, you can trust. You nearly feel sweetness on your tongue as you go to his contacts and type out your number. You don’t feel super creative, so you save yourself only as something boring. _Call me to annoy Puffy_. That’s enough of an explanation for him, you are sure. 

“Feel free to call me whenever you want, Zizi, I will always answer,” you tell him shyly, trying and probably failing to jokingly flirt with him as you return his phone. He takes it back, dumb-founded, so you beam brightly, trying to cheer him up, “Thanks for your jacket, senpai. Please clean it more. Bye-bye, Zizi!” 

You take said jacket out of your shoulders and hurl it straight on Puffy’s face. He tries to murmur something, but material blocks it out, so you just ignore, proceeding to cheerfully skip ahead to the doors of the hotel. You throw them a last gaze over your shoulder. Zizi’s face formed into a twisted, crooked grin that makes you think there will be no Christmas this year. Puffy is taking the jacket out of his face, so you open the door. 

The scream that follows after you can be only called _delicious_. Nearly as delicious as humans’ suffering. You giggle evilly as you step into the building. 

* * *

I'm very sorry about getting this chapter so late. It's only standard 8k words, as I had a problem concentrating. That will sound like an excuse, but there I go - got two of my teeth removed and the pain made it very hard to sit and write. Will try to do better, but I can't exactly promise anything, as it still hurts a little.

There comes the end to this mini Oikawa arc. And Miyagi. All I wanted to achieve happened, so now we can go to Tokyo. Were we supposed to go in this chapter? Yes. But those characters can't shut up I swear -

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it, even if it came late.


	40. In which you don't wear fox's ears (and your heart is mend, maybe).

“Demons, Kita,” Kurosu greets you all in the tone of the man who lost his will to live years ago, “Even the Miya twins are on time. What’s the occasion?”

Your coach should be grateful that Osamu doesn’t have lasers in his eyes. You doubt he would get out alive if that was the case. Thank goodness that the older man spent enough time with Inarizaki’s volleyball team to know not to poke the angry bear, so he takes a step backward, letting the silver-headed twin walk into the bus, still fuming.

You rock on the balls on your feet, feeling nervous. To untrained eyes, Osamu would look only furious. Your eyes are not untrained. For ten years you have been his best friend. It’s something you are damn proud of. After all, you survived ten years with the human equivalents of Loki himself.

Recognizing his moods comes too easy for you. Taking a lollipop from a child would be harder. By the way, why would you even take a lollipop from a child? Fuck morality, it just sounds super disgusting. Children are filthy and like to drool a lot. Who would want their lollipops?! Not you, that’s for sure. 

Oh, yeah, Osamu. 

You know the face he makes is not one full of murderous rage. His expression tells you, the local Miya Expert™, that he is full of _determination_. You doubt he played Undertale in the last hour, so that spells trouble for all of humanity. What the fuck are menaces planning? Should you be afraid? Who are you kidding, you totally should be afraid. 

You know that there was something wrong when you strode into the hotel’s lobby and saw both of them waiting for you, observing your every move with the eyes of the hawks and clutching their phones. They didn’t even say something, just watched you waddle awkwardly to the elevator, clutching your gift bags as if your life depended on it.

Those bastards are onto something. In other words, the end of the time is coming. You hope Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are ready to ride out on dawn. 

“Well, what are the rest of you - Okay, yeah, ignore me too, Atsumu, it’s not like I’m your coach or something like that. Oh, I miss Momo-chan.”

Atsumu follows his twin into the bus, his face twisted in the cocky smile and challenging glare that is left uncontested as the rest of the team just observes him with sweat rolling out of their foreheads. Okay, you will give credit where it is due. Aran, the only good person left, tries to reason something into him, but Atsumu promptly ignores your team’s mom. You pay respect silently to him, pressing the F key in your imagination. 

“What’s wrong with the two of them?” Kurosu sighs, exasperated, “Are we supposed to walk on the eggshells around them now? Is that what my life has come to? Being afraid of teenagers?”

 _What is not wrong with them?_ is the correct form of that question. You pop your lips, trying your hardest to not cut in. You don’t want more attention - it’s bad enough you feel the eyes of half of the team on you already. When you say half, you mean everybody but Shinsuke and Momjiro. Even Suna looks at you, with his lazy eyes half-closed. 

You still know shit how to deal with him. _Okay, let’s be honest with yourself, [Name]. You don’t even know how to deal with twins._

You need to talk with them, but it’s just - uh, it’s just so awkward to even think about that. What would you say? _Hey, idiots, I’m sorry you fucking burnt my beautiful flowers_? You are supposed to give them a cold shoulder today. They are so damn crafty and refuse to even speak to you, so you can’t exactly do that. It’s unfair. They just sulk in the corner, as if they are waiting for _you_ to apologize. Well, fuck that. You are not going to. 

Which means you will never be friends again. Argentine, there you come. 

“Don’t worry, coach,” Momjiro tries to cheer him on, smiling in the way only a mother of hell-raising children can, “They are just - just in a rebellious phase, I guess.”

His eyes rest on you for the moment. You wrinkle your nose in dismay before you just blaze your way through your teammates and enter the bus after twins. Your luggage was already hauled in, so you have to carry a little bag full of comfort food, your faithful plushie, and - well, that’s it. Your phone is safely in your pocket with earphones. That’s all you needed.

You take a deep breath as you look over the bus. You notice twins sitting on the very end, just like always, so you take a seat in like, second or third row. You take your phone and earphones out, and plug them in, completely ignoring the chaos of teenagers loading into the bus. 

Okay, you have a seat. That’s - that’s a good start. You hastily put on some music from your playlist and look through your messages. There are several of them from twins, one from Kizuchi wishing you a nice time in Tokyo, two from Waka, and one from an unknown number. 

You thank Sara, throwing _good luck in school_ as well before you look into the one from Wakas. _I bought a new tank for Vlad,_ it says. You hastily click on the attached photo. Your heart soars as you see your little Vladdie in the picture, swimming through a completely new, big tank. It’s - it’s really big. Like, you would think something so huge would be for several fish, not just one, no matter how precious Vlad III is. 

And yeah, there is also Waka, with a crooked smile, looking so fakey and unlike himself, you have to arch your eyebrow. The second message explains this: _Tendou told me I’m supposed to be in the shot as well._

Who the fuck is Tendou? Are you supposed to know him? Your nose scrunches as you try to remember before deciding that you don’t care. You think about replying, but before you can do so, you feel somebody tapping your shoulder. You lift your head and see Shinsuke, gesturing to your ears. You unplug your earphones fastly, looking at him in question. 

W-what did you do wrong this time?

“C-can I sit next to you?” he asks you, stuttering and blushing. You open your lips in surprise and it doesn’t take you long to spy Aran Ojiro, who tries very hard to get his official _mom_ title removed, smirking without any shame as he sits down next to Omimimimimi. 

Is everyone in Inarizaki coming with secret plans now? Is that new trend nobody told you about? Well, that’s pretty rude of them.

“Yup-yup,” you say, popping the p in the word. You move aside just next to the window to let him into your row. Evil plot or not, there is no universe in which you will say _no_ to Shinsuke Kita, “What is our dear mom doing?” 

Shinsuke blushes ever harder, sitting down beside you. You send him a bright smile, trying to encourage him, but somehow it makes him fluster more.

“H-he had something to talk about with Ren,” he explains, avoiding your eyes, “I h-hope you don’t mind.” 

“I would never mind your presence, ShinShin,” you say, still smiling. You mean every word and you hope he knows it. His face becomes ever redder, so you try to pry another subject, not wanting to embarrass him further, “Uhu, wait, wait, wait, let’s get a selfie together! I will send it to Waka and then maybe post on Twitter, or - or, oh, can we, please?” 

“Yes, of course, we can,” he nods instantly. You would clap your hands in joy, but you are still holding your phone. Not the best idea, so you just rock your head from left to right, grinning like a madwoman. 

You lean onto his shoulder and endeavor to take a nice selfie. You don’t look exactly right - like in every photo, who cares - but at least Shinsuke is so handsome nobody will notice. With the photo taken, you send it to Waka with the small message: _thx thx gt Tokyo rn tell Vlad-chan i ♡ him very much,_ and then publish it on Twitter. Hastily retreating from the site, you pray you are not going to see the insanity every one of your posts gets. You never thought volleyball could be so damn popular. 

With that taken care of, you look up to Shinsuke, still leaning on his shoulder.

“Your shoulder is very comfy,” you tell him honestly, “Feel free to shove me off if I’m annoying you, tho, okay, Shin-chan?” 

“You could never annoy me,” he responds calmly, his brown eyes finally meeting yours. You fluster, his sweet words making you way too happy. You hum in embarrassment, as you check the last unread message. 

_Hey, it’s Iwaizumi. Could you do me a favor and send a message to the number XXXX-XXXX with the words: You should have come to Shiratorizawa? It will help me annoy Oikawa even more._

_done_

You don’t understand how it will antagonize Puffy, but yeah, you are already entering the number and typing those words. You feel a mischievous smile pulling on your face, but then it breaks off in half. You stop in the middle of the sentence, Puffy’s words running through your head. 

_I don’t think Suna was making fun of you,_ he said, _He wouldn’t stand up to protect you from somebody as handsome as me if he didn’t care._

Slowly, you return to typing the message and sending it absentmindedly, too focused on, well, on Suna Rintarou, your existence’s biggest issue. 

You didn’t have time to think about that before. Okay, maybe, just maybe you avoided doing that, a little bit. You have an excuse though! The moment you returned to Shinsuke’s room, you didn’t have any time to just lay around and think about all of the world’s problems. You just packed your things, took snacks into a bag, put on a hoodie, and strolled off to join the rest of the team at checking out. You swear some hotel workers cried from joy as you finally exited the premises. Not that you blame them. 

So, yeah, Suna was the last thing on your mind. He probably shouldn’t be, as right not you feel something unpleasantly vibrating in your chest, wishing you could look around, seek those lazy, lightly colored eyes and the self-deprecating smirk. 

What a world it would be if Puffy’s words were true.

What a world it would be if Suna Rintarou was truly your friend.

Okay, so Oikawa may claim it’s the truth, but you have no means to check that. Speaking with him will yield you nothing in clear contrast to a simple conversation with the twins. You are an expert on _Miyanesss_ , you read them like a desperate weeb reads the new chapter of _One Piece._ Suna is not so simple. He is just, deadpan and calm most of the time. 

He is a snarky person. A sneaky person. Maybe he is even sneakier than you. Maybe he is an FBI agent? It's possible, you think. He likes teasing you way too much, is lazier than a sloth, and probably should sign up for therapy. He helped you, and you never were able to pay him back if you don’t count some packs of stick jellies. So, you have no idea. Wonderful. You sigh, causing the brown orbs of Shin to rest on you. A pout appears on your face, as you hesitantly nudge him with your elbow. 

Puffy doesn’t know Suna. You are not exactly an unbiased judge. Too many emotions, too many desires. Shinsuke, on the other hand, is not like that. He is, well, rational and calm, nearly cold with calculations. He also spent at least a year with the middle blocker. Asking him seems like the best option. 

So this is exactly what you do.

“Shin-chan,” you mutter softly, fidgeting nervously with your phone. You hate how nervous you feel about simply asking, but there is sudden a pit of something grimy and sticky in your stomach. Kita, as the best human in the universe, sees it right away and comforts you with a head pat. It’s embarrassing how much this earnest gesture is capable of bringing your confidence back, but finally, you can spit the words out, “D-do you think S-Suna was my friend?”

Your words are quiet, nearly inaudible for a human ear (and in all likelihood for a dog’s ear as well) and you flinch at that from dismay. Shin hears it anyway. 

“What do you mean?” his voice is calm and his face is unchanged, but something in his eyes glitters with what you can only perceive as worry. Instead of answering, you throw off your shoes and bring your knees close to your chest. You embrace them, placing your phone on the empty nook next to you. 

You started it, you have to finish it, damn it! Or something like that. 

You don't even know how to explain the trains that drive in your head, delivering distinct thoughts in the place you mockingly call a brain. Seriously, do you even have the audacity to say you use your brain? You are pretty sure you don’t most of the time.

You exhale tiredly, feeling like a lost little girl who was left alone on the scene. _Fuck you, brother dearest._

“Like, he didn’t mock me, right?” you start hesitantly, looking at your knees intently. You have to stop yourself from biting your fingers again, so you instead twirl a strand of your hair around your index finger, as you continue, “He didn’t want to, you know, like, ugh,” you groan, the word you want to use on the tip of the tongue. Shinsuke doesn’t mind how much of a mess of the person you are and waits patiently. You take a deep breath, calming your heart as you finally bring yourself to say, “He didn’t talk about me behind my back, waiting to stab me in the back and laugh when I’m heartbroken? Wait, is that sounding super dramatic? It is, oh god - “ 

You stop in the middle of the sentence and cover your face in your hands. It’s easy to discern the heat that collects on your skin as you blush. You watch too much anime. Who talks like that? Stab in the back? Heartbroken? Hahaha, are you a character in a drama or a normal human being? Wait, you are not normal. Does that mean all of your life is drama and you are a side character destined to die in stupid suicidal charge or something like that? Lord Satan, please, no, no, no. You don’t want to kamikaze yourself. 

A little noise leaves your lips as you feel the warm hand of Shinsuke on your head again. Or at least what you think is your captain’s hand. You don’t really know. It could belong to a mind flayer or an alien, and at this point, you wouldn’t be too shocked. 

This is what your life came to. Agonizing about boys and praying to Cthulhu. Haha, you want to order a big _RESET_ button right now because that is not what you signed for. 

“[Name], please look at me,” Shinsuke’s voice comes surprisingly close to you. You bite down on your lip, hard, not sure if you should, you know, listen to him. You probably should. God, you asked him for advice, of course, you should listen to him. 

You sniff, but you take your hands away from your face, albeit you do that very reluctantly. Slowly, you lift your eyes to meet him. You can’t perceive what he is feeling, as his expression stays neutral, Robo - like, as ever, but somehow, you doubt he is going to chide you. Good. Nuclear winter would be more welcome than one of his icy glares and freezing scoldings. 

“You may be exaggerating, [Name],” he says carefully, hesitantly touching your head in a supportive gesture, as if making sure his words are not cutting you too deeply, “But that’s - that’s only because you are too worried. You shouldn’t. Suna is not the kind of person to do something like that.”

Your lip quivers.

_(I don’t think Suna was making fun of you.)_

_(Not the kind of person to do something like that.)_

“Okay,” you say quietly. 

You feel strange. It’s like - it’s like something grim and sticky was hanging on your back, not only on the bottom of your stomach, making it harder to move and breathe, bringing you down more surely than hand yanking your hair down. That unsettling heaviness, the one you didn’t even notice, is now gone, gone with just the several well-placed words. 

If Puffy planted a seed in doubt in your mind, then Shinsuke straight up created a garden for you. It’s full of unburnt, beautiful hydrangeas. Next to them, though, are roses, red, white, and pink. And maybe, somewhere in the corner, there are even sunflowers. 

“Okay,” you repeat, more confidently this time, “Okay.”

You have a friend. You still have a friend, even if you are fighting with him. If you looked at your hands and wanted to count the number of your friends, you no longer have only two of them. It’s - it’s magical. It’s good. You have more people to lean on. You have more people to protect. You don’t want to lose him and you are not going to. 

“Thank you,” you smile at Shinsuke, feeling just straight-up _radiant_ , “I needed that. How can I ever thank you enough? You are too good for this world. ” 

Do your eyes deceive you or does he smile in response as well? You blink, but his lips are still tugged upwards as he ruffles your hair tenderly. A giggle leaves your mouth and if that’s possible, he looks ever gentler and kinder. Suna is your friend, but Shinsuke? He is your reliable senpai. 

You bet that smile of his totally broke a lot of hearts back in Inarizaki High. That makes you remember. Why is there no official Kita Shinsuke’s Fanclub? You still want to join. You titter, shaking your head lightly. 

“If I helped you, that’s enough for me,” he says sweetly. How can a person so kind even exist? You wonder about it briefly, your thumb on your lip, nearly missing Shinsuke reaching to his bag, and taking something white out of it. He blushes when he feels your curious gaze, but before you can as much as ask, he places it in your hands, “I - I made that for you.” 

You bat your eyelids. 

“That’s Vladdie,” you open your lips in small _o_ shape, words flowing on their own. 

It is _him_. _Vlad Drăculea_ , Vlad the Devil, the Voivode of Wallachia, the hero of Romania, who impaled his enemies and sow fear in his allies, the one who fought with Ottomans and created a legend that made him immortal, long after his foes massacred his body. In the end, the one who laughed was him. 

Okay, it’s not exactly him. It’s the fish you named after him. It is your little fish, the one you saw seconds ago in Waka’s photo. It’s not an exact replica, of course. Shinsuke didn’t just give you a living fish to carry in your hands. It’s a large, crocheted plushie with googly eyes and a derpy smile that makes your heart melt faster than ice. 

“Y-you looked very upset last few days,” he whispers, avoiding your gazes once more, sounding bashful, “I know it will not exactly help, but - “ 

You don’t let him finish. You place your Vladdie The Second in the little nook next to your seat just beside your phone. With that taken care of, you are free to launch yourself at him and so, you do just that. You end up bringing him close to your chest, becoming the bigger spoon of this particular embrace. Your hand comes to his hair, softly patting it as you whisper time and again your appreciation. 

Your friend only blushes, letting you show your sheer adoration for a long time. 

* * *

The rest of the five-hour trip to Tokyo is much, much less thrilling. To be honest, you just end up napping on Shinsuke’s shoulders, rambling in and about everything. At some point you even try to count trees, but, yeah, there are a lot of trees in Japan, so you stop doing that pretty quickly.

This trip is much, much calmer than the one you took to Miyagi. It’s also much sadder. Ha, sikes, that’s a joke! It would be sadder, if it was not for your Vladdie The Second, soon to be christened to be named something else because he totally deserves his own, original name. You even took a photo of him and send it to Waka with something similar to a scream in written form. He doesn’t answer. 

You blame the twins just like you blame them for everything wrong in your life. 

It’s not fair that you are not able to see the capital of your country as the sun sets off. That image would be so pretty and photogenic, maybe even enchanting or breathless, but life hates you. Instead, you arrive when the sky is dark and the lights coming from the buildings are so blinding you can’t even discern Mount Fuji on the horizon. What you can see are buildings, skyscrapers reaching to the clouds, and restaurants. 

You are hungry. _So hungry_. 

The traffic, of course, is awful, but that you should have expected that of Tokyo. The biggest and most famous city in Japan is supposed to be what, empty? Pff. You don’t even want to see what the dreadful underground looks like. Oh, gods, the air fumes are going to kill you faster than any serial killer can. 

Do you even have any face masks with you? You didn’t take any. Why?! You are so stupid you want to hit your face on the glass near you. Where the fuck did you think you were coming? To mountains or to the sea, where the air is fresher than the one coming from Mama Miya’s candles. 

Ugh. You will have to buy some masks. Or you will just stay in the room, whatever. You fight back the massive sigh threatening to leave your mouth. 

Thank Cthulhu it doesn’t take a lot to reach your new hotel. It’s totally way too big, way too bourgeois, too luxurious for teenagers, but you start to slowly come to the realization that you are going to lose all of your hair if you let yourself be bothered by Inarizaki’s total disregard of funds. 

Stupid rich people. 

But yeah, you finally arrive, so you take your things and embark on this new, Tokyo journey. Please let this one be better than Miyagi’s one. 

You hum, waiting to take your luggage, which is probably why you don’t expect the assault. It’s brutal, it’s fast, it’s effective. It’s fucking blitzkrieg. Strong arms suddenly appear, taking the hold of you and placing you a top of someone’s shoulder before you can blink. You scream, struggling with your whole body, but it doesn't do anything to your assaulter. 

“This is a kidnapping!” you hover, stunned and angry at once. 

You - you are on his shoulder. What? 

The blond hair is familiar. Way too familiar. The shoulder is too something you came to be used to, more from necessity because some people don’t respect you and your wishes, and they are going to be your first victims, even if you end up in jail for killing that, you don’t care, you are going to straight-up murder them, because _how dare he_. 

“You cunt!” you curse out, any restraint and desire to give him a silent treatment forgotten in the ire that shocks your entire body, “You better pick your fucking grave already, you motherfucker, cuz you are dead, Atsumu Miya, you absolutely-fucking-trash!” 

Atsumu flashes you a cocky smile, totally ignoring the meaning behind your words, sending you into a frenzy once more. You take your nails and jab them into his neck, tracing marks around his skin. He flinches a little, but stays steady and walks forward to whatever stupid direction he chose to get lost on. 

“Have fun,” Osamu comments calmly, waving at you. You see taking your bag from the ground without any emotion and screech in indignation, “I’m going to take care of your things, don’t worry, [Name]. Tsumu, you should worry.” 

“Shut up, Samu, you jerk,” comes Atsumu’s voice way too close to you then it should. You scream straight into his ear causing him to frown, “Oww, sunshine, be careful, that hurt.”

“It was supposed, you stupid dumb-dumb! You moron! You are an asshole! You - you - you -“ 

“Should we help her?” you hear Akagi’s unsure voice and you instantly lift your head in hope. 

It disappears quickly.

“No,” Momjiro abandons you instantly, “I’m not getting into their silly games.” 

“Return before midnight, Atsumu,” Shin adds, the next betrayal on your list. You feel yourself deflate as Atsumu finally stops. You watch with a grim face as he opens the back doors of the car in front of the two of you and shoves you inside before walking in himself. 

You don’t have an idea who the driver is - he just nods at you, and then at Atsumu, before driving off somewhere, leaving you feeling as confused as Pikachu. You look in every direction, trying to understand what the fuck just happened.

“Close your mouth, [Name], before a fly flies in,” Atsumu says cheerfully, making you pay attention back to him. Without thinking much, you launch yourself at him. The driver sighs. He mutters something under his breath, but you don’t care, too busy trying to commit a homicide. 

Or _homiecide_. 

Former-homie-cide. 

Atsumu laughs, not taking any of your efforts seriously at least until you sucker punch him directly in the gut. He groans at that, trying to shake you off, but you are a clingy person. Really clingy. Even when you shouldn’t be. You hold onto him, causing the two of you to rumble on the seats like wild animals. 

“[Name], sunshine, my light,” Atsumu moans out, “Please s-stop.”

“Why?!” you roar back, “You didn’t stop burning my fucking flowers, you stupid, stupid, stupid gnome! You didn’t even wait until I wanted to talk with you, you just took me off the road like a fucking psycho! You didn’t even apologize! Do you even feel guilty at this point?! Do you have guilt in your witless soul?!” 

The driver turns up the volume of the radio. 

You look straight into Atsumu’s faces, the fury pulling the strings of your body as if you were a marionette. You want to pull out all of his hair. You want to tear off his nose. You want to cut all of his fingers, one by one, or maybe rip out his nails. You want to make him hurt just like you are, were, will be, hurt. 

Something wet slides down your cheek. Why the fuck are you crying? Fuck, fuck, fuck. The one who is supposed to be crying is Atsumu, not you. The stupid idiot who cannot ever apologize like a normal human being. A sob trashes through your body and you hate how incapable you are of even moving your hand to seriously hurt your friend. 

“You idiot,” you whisper, “Do you even _care_?” 

“My sunshine,” he says tenderly, maybe a little bit broken, just like you. A hand comes to your cheek, “I made you cry a second time. Osamu will never forgive me now.”

You sniff. Atsumu pulls your hair off your face and takes out tissues from his pocket. Rather than hand them to you, he wipes your face himself, making you foolishly think of a mother from a TV drama that does something like that for her child. 

You don’t remember your mother ever doing something like that. The only people who ever showed you so much adoration were Atsumu and Osamu, and Kakashi-look-alike, although the last one always grimaced so much, called you a stupid crybaby and - You sniff again, letting him do that without any objection. 

This is what he brought you to. Weeping and being comforted. Moron. You are supposed to rule this world, this stuff is going to be awful for your public image.

“You know,” he says as he helps you up, making you sit and then pulling a seat belt across your body, “I was always the jealous one.”

You don’t respond, not knowing how to do so. You felt jealousy towards people they spent time with before too. You even were envious of Shinsuke, dear Chtulhu. But how does jealousy end up being the act of arson? You have no idea. You know anger can lead to buildings blowing up and undergarments getting burnt, but that’s not exactly jealousy.

“I want to say I’m sorry, [Name], but saying sorry is not enough. I’m going to pull Samu over you, but you deserve better,” he takes a deep breath and the urge to hug him, to comfort him, to never let him go encompasses you, “You deserve the best, so I’m gonna give you the best.” 

“I don’t want the best,” you tell him instantly, “I don’t need best, I don’t - I just, Atsu - chan - “ 

_I just need you and Osamu,_ you want to say, but that’s not the whole truth. You need more. You need them to step back, to let you decide your own life, to stop walking around you like you are made from glass, just because - just because they feel guilty over something that’s not their fault. 

“It was not your fault,” you say to him instead, sniffing again, “It was never your fault, you idiot. Stop holding back because of me.” 

The sorrow evident on his face makes you want to pull him into a hug and never let go. The worst of all, there is a resignation on his face and you don’t like it at all. You reach to his face, pressing his cheeks with your palms, wishing it could all go away. 

“That’s a lie, [Name],” he retorts gently, his hands covering yours as he slowly breaks your heart, “We did that to you. Nobody would treat you like that if that was not for us being jackasses.”

That’s not the truth. That’s not _your_ truth. You refuse to blame them. You never did, not back in those dark days when no sunlight could fight through the curtains of your apartment. Not even when you wished sincerely you never were born. Never once in your life, you thought that what happened to you, that accident that still haunts you, was because of their actions. 

You wish they would see this the same way. That they could stop worrying. That they could let you go. That they could stop sacrificing their lives for you. That they could trust you to get towards the rest of your life without stumbling ever again. 

They worry too much. They blame themselves too much. They love you too much. 

_You love them too much too._

“Fuck off,” you snap violently, pinching his cheeks and causing him to flinch, “That’s an excuse cuz you are too dumb to even understand it didn’t involve you. You were not the one to - to - _bully_ me. The world doesn’t orbit around you, Atsu-chan, it orbits around the Sun and if you dare to think otherwise I’m going to kick your ass over to the sixteenth century to talk with Nikolaus Kopernikus.” 

You hate how he looks at you. Not because he is angry at you for pinching his cheeks, not because he is about to get into a tirade about how he could make even Kopernikus eat the dirt. No, he simply looks at you with such love and adoration you want to headbutt him. You are not doing something great. Why does he act as if you are giving him the world when the ones offering you stars constantly are him and Osamu? 

You drop your hands and create a little bit of distance between the two of you. 

“Can you turn off that crap?” he turns to the driver, who looks back very, very much offended, causing your friend to click his lips, “I pay you enough to ignore us without music, you jerk.” 

The poor man looks for the moment as if he wants to argue, but just sighs and switches off the music. It’s not so bad. Just some love song you don’t recognize, which means it’s something super new. One way or another, it is not exactly _crap_ , but you hardly feel like fighting for the song’s dignity when you have trouble protecting your own. 

“Listen, [Name],” Atsumu says, taking your hand into his yet again, treating it with so delicately you swear you are a fragile maiden from the Victorian Era, not his idiot childhood friend with which he fought since he was six years old, “I can’t promise you I will never react so stupidly again, sunny.” 

“Can’t you _try?"_ you cut in, not letting him end his sentence. Your voice sounds so weak and you can’t stop your lip from quivering pathetically, but you do your best to not cry again, “Or at least swear you will never burn my flowers again?” 

“It was never about just flowers,” he answers, stating the oblivious, “Both me and Samu, we talked, because sometimes we can do that, no matter how much his brain is inferior to mine,” he rubs his head awkwardly with his free hand, “Before and _after_. We just didn’t want you to get hurt by some assholes again, but we ended up hurting you instead. Talk about irony.”

“Did you just curse?” you blink up, surprised, “Wait, since when do you know what irony is?” 

“That’s rude, sunshine,” he nips the skin on your hand, making you snicker even as you feel a bit of pain from the gesture, “Look, I’m being cool, right? Focus on that, [Name].”

“You are never cool, TsuTsu,” you roll your eyes. In the answer, he drops your hand and pulls your ear painfully, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, you idiot, stop murdering my ear. It hurts. Awwww, I’m sorry!” 

He laughs at your face as you try to massage your poor, poor ear when the car comes to an abrupt stop. 

“We’re here,” the driver leans out of his seat, a fake smile placed on his face, “Thank you for using our services.” 

“How much did he pay you to say _this_?” you question, but before you can hear a response, Atsumu shoves you out of the car. Well, that’s rude. You stumble out, blinking rapidly as you try to recognize the place you are in. 

You are not, like, the most intelligent person on the Earth, but it doesn’t take a genius to see you are in the amusement park. Or next to the entrance of a massive amusement park that glitters against the night’s sky like a jewel.

It’s not the first time you visited an amusement park. Near Kobe, there is one hosting the Ichiraku Ramen and Hokage Rock from _Naruto_. It took a lot of badgering and false promises from both you and Osamu to go there, bringing Atsumu along for the ride. He was complaining about you so much in the beginning, but the moment you found the Crayon Challenge, he was so in. And you were so out, deciding to spend time with Mama Miya. 

But this is not Anime World Park. It’s a true amusement park, with rides and rollercoasters that are flickering with light in the darkness of the night.

Yeah, your driver is already gone. The car disappears around the corner with a loud noise. You are not exactly surprised, but definitely disappointed. You swallow, feeling at once apprehensive and excited before you return your attention to the blond twin. 

“Why did you take me there?” you ask him, nervously crossing your leg and tapping it against the ground, “Why is Osamu not there? What are you planning, Atsu-chan?” 

A smile tugs on his lips as he hears you calling him by that old childhood nickname. You feel the corners of your ears becoming red, as you didn’t even notice when you returned to using it. It is just - just so natural to call him _Atsu-chan_ , even when you are supposedly still fighting a war. 

He is your precious childhood friend, no matter what much of a bastard he is, in the end. No matter how much of your flowers he will burn, no matter how many times he will kidnap you. Gosh, doesn’t that make your relationship really fucked up? What are you, his victim? 

No. No way. More like he’s your victim. 

“You know he would just throw up,” he tells you mischievously. You narrow your eyes at that, not knowing if you truly believe this particular excuse, even if it is true that Osamu’s motion sickness would make it hard to ride in those monsters. He sighs, rubbing his neck, “We thought it would be better if we apologized on our own.” 

_Since when do you behave like an adult? That’s unfair, AtsuAtsu._

“Since when do you think?” you ask as a smile finds its way on your face. It’s nothing like a radiant, merry smile you would want to give to him. It’s way too bittersweet, way too sorrowful. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but things will change. Atsumu will change. 

Isn’t it a little bit sad? For you, the Miya twins are inseparable. They do everything together. If Atsu gets into trouble, Osa will always follow. Where Osamu is, Atsumu will be. They are twins, they are your friends and they change. 

You bite down on your lip. No tears fall, but you feel the wetness accumulating in your eyes, as you desperately hold not to cry again. The smile he gives you in the return is so childish you can’t help but for the moment feel like a little girl. 

“[Name] Date,” he calls your name gently as he offers you his hand, “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry. My dearest Sunshine, will you let me make it up for you?” 

This is what you were waiting for. Just those two words would be enough. Why does he need to be so _extra_? Well, you think, It’s Atsumu, everything he does have to super dramatic. You ignore his outstretched hand and instead rush towards him, hopping and grasping into his neck, embracing him with everything you have. 

He must have anticipated it. He knows you way too well not to, so he opens his arms before you jump, catching you in the air and twirling you around like a princess from Disney’s film. You giggle into his neck, feeling _whole_ once again. Living without Atsumu sucks so fucking much.

“You better be ready to get into every rollercoaster they have, AtsuAtsu,” you tell him, nudging him with your head, “We’re going partying.” 

“They have collaboration with Naruto right now. Want to get yourself a Kakashi cutout?” 

You lift your head and look into his amber-like eyes. They twinkle with mischievousness and happiness, and even if the words he has spoken didn’t hold the magic, then those cheerful orbs would promise it. 

“Yes.”

“You can’t get married to him, though.” 

“Let’s go before I fucking change my mind, Atsu-chan.”

* * *

There is a fundamental problem with going to the amusement park an hour and a half before it closes down. Yeah, you don’t exactly have a lot of time to dillydally. Atsumu snaps the map of the park from the nice lady selling tickets. She smiles at the two of you, wishing you a nice time on your date. You don’t even try to argue with her, dragging Tsu to the corner with a secured map. 

The two of you choose the most extreme ones to ride on. Well, the most extreme ones without any water and the ones you can get on. You still don’t understand what your height has to do with not being able to get on some of them. It’s probably some sort of racism against shorter people. 

But yeah, you draw a quick, mental map to all of those rides you want to get on - three super-fast rollercoasters, one really big carousel, and one swinging way too high ship. There is no Ferris wheel, making you pout a little, but your sullen mood disappears when Atsumu reminds you about Naruto attractions waiting for you.

So. After that, you are going into the Naruto-zone, where you are supposed to secure the Kakashi cutout by any means necessary. And cotton candy. If you don’t get cotton candy what sort of visit to an amusement park is this? 

The problem is, of course, time and people standing in the lines. Seriously, it’s the middle of the week, why are so many people there? The queues make you think of those old photographs of lines to shops during the Soviet regime. 

“[Name], [Name], [Name],” Atsumu clicks his tongue as you voice the thought, shaking his head disapprovingly, “You spend too much time with Kita. Who do you think you are talking to?” 

“To the actual trash in human disguise,” you walk into your routine easily enough, crossing your arms as you evaluate him. He looks as cocky as ever, but there is still that childish charm to his smile, making you surrender, “Okay, Tsu-chan, what is your dumb plan, huh?” 

“We’re going to improvise, of course!” 

You blink. 

_Improvise?_

* * *

“Did-did that girl faint?! Call the ambulance!” 

“Oh god, no!” 

You stand up, acting as if nothing has happened, the dispersed crowd already parted before you. Atsumu snickers as the two of you take your place on the grand rollercoaster. 

* * *

“I can’t believe that person just called him a fat-ass.”

“They did? Oh, I mean, of course, they did, hahaha, that’s so rude, right, Atsu-chan? Wait, they said they look like a dead duck too?” 

The ensuing fight between the men makes slipping ahead of the line way too easy. 

* * *

“Excuse me, you didn’t stand there.” 

“I’m sorry - ?” 

“Wow, the audacity, right, we wait for fifteen minutes and then somebody just cuts in -“

“No, that’s perfectly okay, [Name], we will just wait a minute longer…” 

“I’m sorry!” 

You observe the embarrassed person disappearing in the crowd, letting the two of you take their place with evil grins. 

* * *

“Hello, are you here alone?” 

“A-ah, yes - “ 

“I’m not, so make a room.”

* * *

So, yeah, not a problem for the two of you. The rides are - well, they are good. Very good. The wind in your hair, the adrenaline rushing in your ears, and the feeling of being free - all of it is more intoxicating than any drugs ever made. 

It takes half of the hour to get around five attractions. Your favorite one is the rollercoaster you just got out of. It was pretty straight-forward but super-fast, making it hard to even scream as everything around you became blurry. You were at this one four times already and you still want more. You giggle happily as you and Atsumu stumble out of your ride like drunken fools

“One more,” you beg him, tugging the sleeve of his jacket, “Come one, come one, AtsuAtsu, five-minutes trip!” 

“We’re tight on the schedule, [Name],” he says back, though his grin tells you he wouldn’t mind two or three more rides himself, “Don’t you want your Kakashi?” 

You want it. You really, really do, so you let him take you away without much complaint, even if you pout a little, causing a light teasing of _how cute you look_ coming from Atsumu. 

“If I’m so cute, then get me cat ears or something. They always have those in amusement parks in anime,” you mutter as you kick the stone whose only sin was sitting in the middle of your way, “I will look even cuter with them and cotton candy.” 

He snickers.

“That’s true,” he teases, making you pout even more. He chuckles, looking ahead with his stupidly long neck, “How about fox’s ears? Or vixen’s, more specifically?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Just get them, you loser.”

He tugs your hand, dragging you into a nearby shop and buying said vixen’s ears for you. In revenge, you would get them matching ones, but you don’t have your wallet on you, again. This time it’s not because of your negligence, though, but because you were just straight-up kidnapped. 

So you take your headband and force him to lower himself before you place it on him, laughing evilly the whole time. 

“Who is the little good fox now, Atsu?” you mock him, playfully pulling strands of his hair, “Maybe that should be your nickname. The Little Good Fox, Miya Atsumu himself.” 

He looks at you for a second, his face redder than tomato before taking you in his arms. Normally, you would enjoy the hug, but this time he holds you way too close and tight, making you squirm uncomfortably next to him to his endless joy. 

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he says, acting as if taking you into a deadly bear hug and choking you is a just act, “You are so cute I’m going to eat you. Like the Big Bad Wolf tried to eat the Red Riding Hood.” 

“What Big Bad Wolf?” you stick your tongue out of him, nearly licking him in the progress, that’s how close you are, “You are just a cute boy.”

He blushes at the words, instantly releasing you. You can’t help but giggle like the evil Overlord as you eye his totally flabbergasted face before you skip ahead, leaving the shop and Atsumu in your wake. 

* * *

They do, in fact, have the Kakashi cutout. The security around it, though, makes it a hard nut to crack. You finally decide to give up on taking him with you. After you take a photo or three. 

They have pillowcases for sale, but they are so strangely sensual you decide to go instead for the mascot, blushing heavily to Atsu’s laugh. The thing is, mascots are not for sale - instead, they are prizes, which makes you and Atsumu have to enter contests. You end up in a very stupid contest in which you are supposed to throw a dart to dartboard or another one with riffles. You feel like American as you hold it, but you do your best, determined, while Tsu is off trying his luck with basketball and climbing walls. 

While darts go atrociously for you, you are not the worst shot on the planet Earth, scoring a lot of coupons to exchange for prizes. Atsumu, you find, aced his challenges, because of course, he did, it’s Atsumu. He still wears the fox’s ears, making you giggle as you exchange the coupons for several plushies. Kakashi is one you get, of course, but not the only one. You also get a little Sasori in his Akatsuki’s coat and Temari, as badass as ever even in her chibi form. Not to say anything about Pakkun, the little puppy so adorable and soft you feel like melting. 

With that, Atsumu hastily buys cotton candy for you before you are directed to the exit by the security. It sticks to your mouth and fingers as you munch on it happily, holding your plushies close to your chest with your arm. You can’t hold the blond’s hand like that, but he throws his arm around your waist, making sure you don’t get separated as crowds storm the exit. 

“Didn’t call uber before, so we have to wait,” he informs you as you finally can get out. You take the moment to breathe out as you nod absentmindedly. It’s dark now and windy, cold even in the middle of the city. What is with the weather anyway? Why are you always cold?

Atsu reaches for his phone as you munch on the rest of your cotton candy, looking up. You cannot see the stars in the sky, not so close to the city. It’s not like you would be capable of naming constellations anyway. How drunk the Sumerians, Greeks, and Egyptians had to be to see things like giraffes, dogs, or ponies in the luminous plasma above? 

Very fucking drunk. Not that you blame them. What are you supposed to do when there is no internet and you can find Plato outside, just waiting to diss you? Drink wine and create Olympic Championships, that’s what. 

Or go to war, if you feel Spartan. 

“I feel like walking,” you speak aloud, thinking way too hard about Sparta. It’s not entirely true that you simply want to take a stroll, no matter how much your mind is fixated on the ancient warriors. The real reason is way too embarrassing to say aloud, though, “How far is our hotel?” 

Atsumu narrows his eyes, seeking your actual reason, but you only send him a sweet, innocent smile that flusters him way too easily. There is no way in hell you will tell him you don’t want to return to the hotel so fast but stay with him, your friend. You are having such a great time and you don’t want it to end. 

You press your lips into a thin line, cringing internally at the words you know he would say if he ever heard you. Seriously, you can practically hear him going after you, cooing and treating you as the child. So patronizing.

_Oh, litwee wittle [Name]-chan wants to spend time with little old me? That’s so cute, sunshine. Well, I don’t have a choice, but say yes or she will cry just like a second ago! Won’t you, you crybaby?_

Yeah, no way you will feed his ego. 

“About an hour,” Atsumu raises his eyebrow at the plea that is definitely out of the character for a lazy person like you. You shrug, refusing to let him hear your real reason, fuck off, you just want waddle awkwardly around, “If we don’t get lost with this stupid GPS.” 

“Listen, it’s not GPS’s fault we are stupid,” you smile at him sweetly, embracing your plushies tighter, “We party together, we die together. Don’t you want to?” 

“It’s not like I will ever say no to you, sunshine,” he types something in his phone, probably the location of your hotel into the map. As he starts moving, he throws his arm around you again, though this time it’s around your arms, “Want me to give you a piggy ride?” 

“Nah,” you shake one of your fingers, “Maybe later when I will get super tired and will complain too much.” 

“You always complain too much.” 

You step on his foot, causing him to snicker. 

“Not hurt at all!” he claims, “Try better next time!” 

You don’t have to be told twice: you do that again, harder this time, and his laugh changes into a groan of pain. You wiggle your shoulders in triumph and trek ahead, bounce in your step before you are stopped by Atsumu because you are going in the wrong direction. 

After that, you let him take a lead, humming lightly as you follow him. You don’t talk much, because he joins in your hum. He is awfully out of tune with you, but that doesn’t trouble you so much. You just bask in his presence, finally reunited with one of your friends. Now, you have to get just two of them back. 

The long road slowly changes into a much prettier area. Sakura trees - of course, it’s sakura trees, they are everywhere, just trying to spite you by existing - and grasslands in your view make you think of calm towns and suburbs than the rambunctious, insane, and wild Tokyo you created in your mind. 

It’s not exactly.

“Do you think it’s Arakawa River?” you ponder aloud, looking at the river that appeared beside you minutes ago, “Should we look for its’ bridge? Maybe we will find a troll or gnome, or even a gnoll.” 

“You watch too much anime,” he responds, reaching over to smear his thumb through your cheek, “What is even a gnoll? Never heard of that one before.” 

“That’s a lie, dummy. I made you and Sam-chan play _Heroes of Might and Magic_ all the time, you know,” you shake your head. You try to escape from his touch by taking a step to the right. 

It’s not exactly a good idea, as you don’t look and end up bumping into whoever was trying to walk next to you. To be honest, you are pretty damn sure he would hit you anyway, as his chest painfully touches your whole arm, causing you to stumble around. You somehow control your body to avoid Atsumu, but not the railing that somebody well-aware of how clumsy humans can be placed just next to the river. 

“Sorry!” comes the rushed cry, but you are not able to answer, desperately trying to catch your balance and not fall into the water. Atsu’s hastily offers his help, taking your shoulders, but your mascots drop from your arms to the dirty ground. 

“[Name]!” 

Like in slow-motion, you see Pakkun, Sasori, and Temari end on the road, while Kakashi bounces across the railing, straight to the river you dubbed as the Arakawa River. You can’t even react, desperately holding into whatever you can reach. 

“No!” you moan, “Kakashi!” 

“Are you okay?!” Atsu’s arms once more encompass you as he worrying ask. His touch is as always warm and comforting, but somehow, it is also empty and cold the wave after wave comes after the mascot you just got. 

“Yup,” you utter, completely defeated as you look down on the sinking Kakashi plushie, “I’m so sorry, Atsu-chan, we worked so hard to get him and now - “ 

You stop, not being to say another word, as a blurry white-and-black person arrives in your view. The boy - the man, whatever, the one you bumped into sends you thumbs up. 

“Don’t worry, I got it!” 

Without looking back, he fucking jumps straight into the river. You can’t help the scream that emits from your mouth. What - what the fuck!? You blink rapidly, not understanding what is happening. Atsumu curses, making you think you are a horrible influence on him, but that thought disappears quickly as his arms disappear from your body.

Instead, you feel a weight around your shoulders and on your head. His jacket. The headband with fox's ears. You bat your eyelashes and before you can do anything, his stupidity takes over. You are unable to do anything as you watch your friend leap from the railing, following the stranger and your plushie into the abyss. 

* * *

That's it. The last chapter of this year, chapter forty. Over 200k words of this silly idea, and we wink, wink, met our first Tokyo boi. Thank you, everyone, for the support you showed me and this silly story! It's really hard to believe, sometimes (all the time). Happy New Year - or at least, let this one not be worse than 2020. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	41. In which hypothermia is not a joke (but your life is).

_Okay, okay, okay, it’s not time to panic_ , _it’s not time to panic_ , you repeat in your mind, while you panic, a lot. 

In your defense, nobody even told you how the fuck are supposed to react when two people just fucking jumped into a river over a stupid mascot. You are pretty sure not even Yahoo has the answer to that question. Okay, you could expect something like that out of Atsumu, but Oreo is not a menace send to torture humanity like him! Are you the only one person on the Earth left with common sense?! 

If so, you can predict the incoming doom better than Nostradamus. You are not exactly the most reliable person. For example, your friend is drowning and you do nothing to help him, pondering stupid things instead. 

_Atsumu. River. Jumped. Off._

Oh God, oh Cthulhu, oh Satan, oh Buddha, oh Allah, please, please, please, let your friend be safe and sound. You grasp into the railing, leaning out to look for him and to your terror, you can’t spot him at all. The whole world around you spins and you discern opening your mouth, a desperate cry leaving it. 

“Atsu!” 

It’s not possible. 

No, no, no, no, not your Atsu-chan, he can’t fucking die - 

Then, you hear a laugh as he emerges from the water, his hair flapping around dramatically. He shots you a peace sign, throwing his hand around the water. Your knees give up and you fall to the ground, your hands still clutching this dumb, dumb railing. You are _so_ going to kill him. You hate him, you hate him so, so, so much. 

“Atsu-chan,” you repeat his name pathetically. You - you are so dizzy from sheer relief that you don’t think you are going to move for the next hour or so. 

A second laugh echoes in the air, making your sweaty palms clutch the railing even harder. Nobody, sans you, understands how serious the situation is, and that causes your ever-so-familiar anger to rise. 

What the hell just happened? You are pretty sure that both your childhood friend and the stranger just leaped into the river without a second thought before your very own eyes. You bite down on your lip, fury spiking out, while you try to comprehend why would they do something as idiotic. Swimming in the river in the middle of the night is an example of what you are not supposed to do. So, why, dear Gods, why would they do exactly that? You, of all people, know better and there is your picture under the definition of the word _dumb_ in the dictionary. 

What went wrong in their small, small brains to compel him to dive right into the water? You breathe out, trying to calm down. Being angry right now will not help you, even if you want nothing more than to jump after them to bash their head into the wall, you understand that this is now what you meant to do. No matter how cathartic that would be. 

At the very least, both of them are alive. They can get out of this sticky, stinky river if they work together. Tsu is an athlete, after all. With his help, Oreo Cookie should have no trouble reaching the ground. If they are fast enough, nothing bad will ever happen to them. Nothing bad will happen to Atsumu. 

There are times when you hate how vivid imagination you can have. This is one of those times since you can’t get out of your head the dreadful images of Atsumu’s leg getting tangled up, of him losing his footing, of him falling down, of him being taken by the waves - 

You take your hands away from the railing to cover your mouth. The compulsion to throw up from sheer nerves hits you up. 

You swallow heavily. 

_Okay, okay, okay, okay,_ you repeat to yourself, _The situation. Think. Think. Think, [Name], damn it, you are supposed to be a smart person. Analyze the situation. Find a solution. Be brave, be brave, be brave. Fuck, [Name], fuck, fuck, fuck._

Once again, the worst thing you would do is to jump after them. Yeah, not doing that. No way in hell. As long as they are still able to swim, as they breathe, you are not going into this cold, cold river. 

With that out of the way, what can you do? 

Should you just wait? Should you phone the emergency number or at least Osamu, or Shinsuke, or your coach? You don’t have a phone. You don’t have a phone! Wait, wait, wait, you have Atsu’s jacket, and if he thought ahead - 

You hastily check his pockets. You feel his wallet, but ignore it for now, and, _voila_ , soon enough you have his phone in your trembling hands. He didn’t change his passcode since he got his phone five years ago, so you have no trouble unlocking it. What stops you, though, is his wallpaper. 

Like, your brain stops, and that should kill you, but you continue to breathe and stupidly ponder. Why does he have _only you_ as his wallpaper? Why is he not there? Why is Osamu not there? Isn’t - isn’t it what _l-lovers_ do? Like, you had him on your screen, but always with his twin, sticking stupid faces on the camera. N-nothing like _that_. 

You end up looking like a potato in most of the photos. You don’t exactly care about that, just enjoying simply taking them from time to time. Yet somehow - somehow, the picture on Atsu’s phone is different and that is so strange, because, because, because -

Somehow, you look - well, it’s embarrassing to say it, so vain and arrogant, so wrong, but you only can call yourself a _pretty girl,_ echoing Rin’s words. That is a strange way to see yourself. It makes you want to say that the person in the photo is not you, but you know it’s you, even if you don’t even know when or where the photo was taken. 

It’s so simple. Just you, your hands brought together in the glee and your face lightened up by a giggle you can’t hear, but know it’s there. You click your lips nervously, looking around in a daze. You don’t understand why would anyone want you as their screensaver. There are so many better things to have as your wallpaper. Like, a puppy. 

It makes you - it makes you - you don’t know how to feel. A part of you is happy, a part of you is uncomfortable, and another part screams at you to move because your friend may be dying and instead of doing anything, you gap at his stupid phone like a moron. 

The thought hits you. You distinctly remember his last wallpaper, something with a Mikasa ball. Did he change it when you were fighting? That - that makes sense, huh, because that means he missed you. 

Suddenly, a sense of calm and warmth washes through you. _Atsumu_ , you think with quivering lip, _Missed me just as much as I missed him._ The confirmation of the fact he cares about you is groundbreaking, even when you should have known, when you know he loves you. It’s just - it’s just good to see or hear that from time to time. 

He missed you so much he got a photo of you as his _wallpaper_. Isn’t - isn’t it a bit cute of him? 

“I think I saw it in that direction!” 

You pale, brought to reality with the voice resonating in the air. _They did not_. You heard that wrong. They absolutely did not- 

“Going under, hold on!” 

They did. They fucken did. You bump your forehead repeatedly into the railing, not caring how much it hurts your innocent head. You are going _insane_. This is what Atsumu and White-Black did. They broke you and you are so ready to proclaim a revolution. Anarchy is the only system that can save you all. 

“Atsu-chan,” you whisper into the railing, “What the actual fuck you are doing.” 

He doesn’t hear you. Of course, he doesn’t. He is in the water, diving up for your Kakashi mascot. The gesture would be sickening sweet were it not for that fact. He is risking his health, his carrier, his stupid, worthless life to get one little plushie back. With a stranger who could want to kill him in secret! 

This situation is so fucking stupid. 

You clamp onto the railing and hoist yourself up. Your legs still tremble, but you try to ignore that, as your gaze fervently seeks your friend. He is still above the water, swimming in the place, while the second boy-man plunges himself into the water. 

You are about to tear your hair from your head. 

The worst is, you know you cannot stop whatever the fuck they are doing. You know shit about Oreo Cookie, but Atsumu always does what he wants when he wants, not caring for anyone or anything. If this boy wasn’t so fixated on volleyball, you would think he wants to take your title of the Evil Overlord, because, let’s be honest, he totally would make a splendid villain. He would probably fall in the end - unlike you - because he is so stupid, though. 

You will not stop him, even if you call the authorities. So, not doing that. Fuck. What then can you do? They are both in cold, cold water - 

Wait. Cold. Water. Your mind races. 

You go back to Atsu’s phone and check the temperature hastily, the ominous aura surrounding you. _Eight degrees Celsius_ , it proclaims. Yeah, it’s not freezing, but it’s - it’s not good. They are going to be so cold when they leave this fucking river. If they don’t pass from sheer hypothermia, they will get super sick. But, but, but, oh why the only thing you can remember at the moment like this is the Dyatlov Pass Incident?! 

They need - they need towels. Dry clothes. Hot drinks. Anything. [Name], think, think, how can you get those to them. You need a shop. 

_Konbini._

You bite down on your nail, trying to calm down as you think. This - this you can provide. This you can do. You silently thank Waka for showing you that those shops have clothes. With your finger still on your lips, you use your free hand to type _the convenience shop near me_ into the web. 

Google maps, your official savior, show it’s not so far from your location. Okay. Without thinking much, you leave everything but Atsu’s phone and wallet behind, going as far as throwing his jacket off your shoulders. You don’t wait for it to hit the ground, starting a mad dash in the direction that Google tells you to. 

You run as if your life depends on it, showing past people and not stopping until you see your destination. You curse yourself for being so, so slow when people’s lives depend on it. Hypothermia is not a joke, you know it very well. You hastily create a list of things to buy, adding some healthy snacks to the list as you remember the hunger may worsen the condition. 

It feels like you run for so long. Far too long. Your cheeks are red and you are breathing heavily as you rush through the doors of the shop. Nervously, you start going through the shelves, taking towels and warm looking clothes. While you don’t know the size of Oreo, you know what Atsumu wears, so you just end up buying everything in his size. 

With those items firmly in your arms, you go to check-out. Of course, there is a line, and you don’t dare to cut in without your blond friend to smile down at everybody who would try to talk to you. Instead, you nervously tap your foot, waiting and waiting for what feels to be hours. 

“C-can I get something warm to eat t-there?” you stutter to the cashier when it’s finally your turn. The woman sends you a polite smile and hastily offers various warm snacks that she can get you. 

While there is no shogayu, ginger tea that would work wonders on your idiot, there are a lot of hot drinks you can get. You will die before you buy coffee, so you get milk tea with ramen noodles and steaming hot buns. That - that should be enough. Nodding to yourself, you take out Atsumu’s wallet and open it, looking for his card. 

It’s an emergency and you don’t have your wallet with you because of him, so you will have to give him back it later. For a moment your heart stops, as you spy a little photo of you and Osamu in one of the pockets. What a softie. Softie. Softie. Dying in the river softie. Your lip quivers as you reach for his card. 

You pay with Atsumu’s card, hands trembling as you enter his PIN. Thank gods, you remember it. How awkward it would be if you blocked his card by trying different numbers? With that done, the kind cashier helps you pack everything and you breathe out, mentally preparing for the next Marathon. 

“Hey there!” one of the boys from before smiles at you awkwardly. You blink, clutching your things as your mind screams at you _Danger! Danger! Danger!_ “Are you from around there? Didn’t see you before. Do you need help?” 

Does it mean he knows everybody in Tokyo? Or is something about you screaming _Hello, I’m from Kobe, please feel free to attack me if you are a serial killer_? What is even a good answer in a situation like this? Probably smile and wave, or something, you don’t know. Awkwardly, you take your items from the corner. 

“I’m sorry, the child of Satan is drowning, I don’t have time to talk.”

Yeah, that seems like a good answer. Polite. Straight to the point. Not even stutterings. Cthulhu, somebody out there better be proud of you, you are trying. You salute the boy with two of your fingers and not giving him time to respond, you dash out in stilted panic. You can’t exactly run as quickly as you could before, not with easy-to-trip items in the bag, but you do your best. 

It doesn’t help that with each step you get more and more nervous. Fuck. Stupid Atsumu. While the road ahead drags, you cannot help but imagine the worst possible situations. Atsu drowning, Atsu falling in the water, Atsu being yanked down - 

_Please, no_. You have tears in your eyes when you return. The place, to your surprise, looks untouched, Tsu’s jacket and your mascots still in the place. You hastily put them into the bag with clothes and look out on the river. 

Your heartbeat stops. The bags nearly slip out of your hands. 

The water in the river remains undisturbed. You see no human body above the waves, which normally would be super reassuring. Not finding a dead body abandoned by some stupid murderer should be reassuring. But you can’t find Atsu. You don’t even see Oreo Cookie. 

An invisible knot tightens around your neck, making it hard to think logically. Something pricks your skin and you start to nervously look around, scared out of your mind. Finally, you can breathe as your eyes find two silhouettes on the bank of the river, not so far. It’s hard to exactly see as the lights don’t exactly reach that place, but you swear you see something glistening and gold. 

You don’t need anything else. You move in that direction, observing the two characters carefully, at least until you can recognize them as Oreo Cookie, real name unknown, and your Atsumu. Thank Cthulhu, thank Satan, thank all deities, because you don’t know what you would do without him in your life. No, fuck you. You don’t know - you don’t want to - Gosh. No, no, no. Your imagination is way too fucking wild, you don’t want it anymore. 

You clutch the bags tighter and start to run towards them. They are both laying on the grass, shivering and dripping wet, but nothing even resembling a regret is on the blond twin’s face as he shifts his head and looks towards you. In contrast, he visibly brightens, stopping whatever he was saying as a smile tugs on his lips. 

“[Name]!” he shouts out, excited. He pulls something from the side, throwing one of his hand in the air, presenting you the unfortunate mascot, “Look what your precious childhood friend found ~ “ 

He sounds so proud of himself that you want to punch him. How the fuck does he dare? Did he even think about what you would - what Osamu would - what Miss Shouko would do if something happened to him?! That was stupid! That was dangerous! You stop, catching your breath as you furiously try to catch your bearings. 

“I was the one supposed to do that,” you hear a small moan. You blink, finally noticing that Oreo Cookie is just next to him. He doesn’t look the best, to put it mildly, a startling contrast to the self-assured hooligan who fucking leaped into the river at the first opportunity presented. 

Did they got kidnapped by the mermaid kingdom and exchanged souls or something? He is so sullen with that quivering lip that the words of fury don’t leave your mouth. Seriously, why is he pouting so much? Is he alright? You should have called the ambulance, shouldn’t you? 

Atsumu chuckles at that, completely ignoring whatever you wanted to say as he places Kakashi next to his hip and sits up. 

“Where you were, sunshine?” he asks instead of doing something productive, “You just disappeared. Got me all worried.”

 _He was worried?!_ Your lips form a thin line. You seethe as you release all of your frustrations out by taking one of the towels from your bag and hurling it into his stupid, grinning face. Atsu was not expecting it and, what can you say, your aim is getting better because he nearly drops onto the grass from the force of your missile. 

“You stupid imitation of the human being, the trash in the purest form, fucking worm stuck to my booth,” you hiss, not even trying to keep the anger of your tone, as you come close to bewildered Atsumu, “Get naked, we don’t have a lot of time.” 

As you order you place the bags on the ground, taking the second towel out of the bag, and toss it towards Oreo Cookie. It seems depression didn’t hit as hard as you thought, because he catches it without any problem with his hand. Whoa. 

His hand is super huge. 

Full stop. You have to take a deep breath as you eye the white-black blur. He-he-he - oh, gosh, he is definitely well-built. It doesn’t help that the water causes his clothes to cling to his body, showing it all in the vivid details to the world. It-it-it feels s-super indecent and you want nothing else but to cover your eyes and scream. 

“What?!” Atsumu screeches, his cheeks red as he is way too focused on your words than everything else. Somebody has to wash his dirty brain because it seems the river’s water was not enough to get his mind out of the gutter. 

And maybe, that somebody can brainwash you as well. 

“Hypothermia, duh!” you respond, not fighting the blush on your face as you didn’t blush because you didn’t just ogle Oreo Cookie’s body. You pull out clothes from the bag, throwing the rest of them to the white-black blur before you start tugging on the Atsu’s shirt, “Get out of this wet nightmare, god damn it, Atsu-chan.” 

He screams again as he feels your hands on his skin, acting as if you were radioactive. You roll your eyes at his shyness. It’s not the first time you will see him without clothes and probably not the last. Frick, you saw him growing up from little hellish menace to the tweed he is today. Where is the sudden embarrassment coming from? 

He still doesn’t leave his heated gaze off, so you sigh and drop your hands, stepping backward to give him space. Anything to let him finally put on those damn clothes. You may joke a lot, but you don’t want him to freeze. 

“Hurry up, TsuTsu, please,” there is desperation in your tone that finally makes Atsumu move into changing, even if he looks super embarrassed by that. You decide to spare his dignity and turn around, your eyes resting on the second boy. You bite down on your lips as you eye him critically before you decide to call him softly, “Oreo Cookie, you too.”

Okay, he is not your friend, not like Atsumu and normally you wouldn’t give a damn about him. The thing, that moron jumped into the river because of some stupid, misinformed chivalry. You don’t want him to get sick. You don’t want him to be hurt. It’s a little bit selfish, but feeling responsible for some stranger is the last thing you need right now. 

“Oreo Cookie?” you hear his voice go as his golden eyes meet yours. It’s funny. He doesn’t seem like a serial killer type of guy, but somehow, his eyes make you think of a predatory animal, “I like Oreo cookies.”

You nod at him. That you can respect. Who even doesn’t like Oreo cookies? They are no match for matcha, of course, but they are still delicious. What a pity you didn’t think about buying them when you were in that shop. 

Wait, wait, wait, it’s not time to daydream. Huh, can you even daydream when it’s night? No, that’s not important, [Name]. Focus! People are dying! Get your priorities straight. First, get those idiots to move. Second, give her food. Three, cry, a lot. 

The boy before you doesn’t even try to cooperate. He is just lying there, wet hair remaining glued to his forehead. He doesn’t even blink, peering at you intently, without moving a single well-defined muscle. Very well developed muscles. 

What is wrong with you? Seriously, what’s wrong with you, having a sudden sexual awakening in the middle of a tense situation? It’s not like you are attracted to the person you just meet. That doesn’t work like that. Right? Right?! Bad [Name], no peeking at him with such - such lewd ideas. That’s - that’s - that’s wrong. You are just objectifying him. You are not supposed to do things like that, you are way too old for that. Waka didn’t cause you to think like that and he was definitely even better built. But, but, but it’s not like you saw Waka in such a situation - 

The thought of Vlad’s caretaker without his shirt makes your skin boil. Okay, thinking about him didn’t help. 

Twins! You said it yourself, you saw both Atsumu and Osamu half-naked so many times. They are very handsome boys and you don’t - don’t react like that. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s because you are super comfortable with them. 

You are not developing a crush. You are not. You are just not used to half-naked men that don’t wear the last name Miya. That’s it. Breathe down, [Name]. You are not getting a fourth person on your “Painfully Unrequited Crushes” List. Not today, not ever. Love or dating is not for you. 

With that taken care of, you send him with the harshest glare you can muster. Or at least you would if you didn’t find your eyes sticking way too much to the image of his muscles. It’s not out of your free will, of course. It’s by accident only! You, you, you don’t want to stare at his body like that! 

“Just change in d-dry c-clothes, for fuck’s s-sake,” you stutter, looking at anything but his chest, “Y-you’re going to g-get sick if you stay like that.” 

You get flustered around him way too easily and you just met. He is literally shivering from freezing weather, how can you even appreciate his body in a situation like that? You slap your cheek once. Twice. Thrice.

_Toughen up and stop behaving like a teenage girl with too many hormones, Date, god damn it, you are better than it. One well-built boy will not break you! You are the conqueror! The Overlord! You have no weakness! You will rule this world!_

“He’s just salty that I found you mascot first,” Atsumu tells you, snickering, “Was pouting the whole time since we got out. Can’t take a loss, huh?” 

His words are a comforting kick to the nose you needed. You are finally capable of gazing atOreo Cookie. You are very careful to avoid looking at his chest and arms, and - well, you just focus on his face. Hm, that’s a strange one. You swear he seems familiar, but you are quite sure you never met him before. You would remember, you think, mostly because of those muscles - 

Fuck. You are blushing again. You shake your head, trying to concentrate on the important things. Like, that feeling of familiarity. Why do you feel like you saw him before? Is he a celebrity? That, or he just makes you think of Kita with that white hair with black ombre. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to emulate your captain with his looks, because his brain is lost on that one. 

“Ayayayaya,” incomprehensive words leave your mouth and you can practically sense the smile of Atsumu as he goes _So cute_ under his breath, “S-stop thinking about the mascot, p-please. It’s not important at all, just c-change your clothes already.” 

Your voice doesn’t hold enough authority, it seems, as Oreo Cookie only becomes sadder. His golden eyes look at you sorrowfully, before he raises his hands to his face, covering it effectively as he mumbles something under his breath and - and starts rolling in the grass. 

Not the best idea even when you are dry and Oreo Cookie is the furthest thing for that, making the various sticks, crabgrass, and mud sticking to his wet clothes. You watch with morbid curiosity before you shake your head furiously. 

Does he want to get sick?! Because that’s how you end up getting sick! The sudden urge to kick him is overwhelming. What is that called? Killing a person while he is down? In every possible meaning. 

You want to scream. How - how are you supposed to deal with him? You thought that the days in Miyagi were strange, but this one encounter takes the cake over them easily. Hm, cake- 

You nearly jump up in surprise as you feel a cold hand going around your waist. It’s Atsumu’s, thanks Cthulhu, holding you delicately, still mindful of the awful bruise around your abdomen. You look up to see him, with the towel around his shoulders, as he changed into the simple, long-sleeved shirt you bought. 

It has a little fox peeking from the pocket on the chest. Cute, you think to yourself, Way too cute. 

“[Name]-chan, is that why you were gone?” he inquiries gently, his hand caressing your skin under your hoodie. His eyes are boring holes into the rolling puppy before you, though, and you don’t blame him. Maybe he is not Oreo Cookie, but a Dalmatian puppy, huh? “To buy us towels and clothes?” 

“Yup-yup,” you respond lightly. All of your nerves instantly disappear. Tsu’s proximity always eases your anxiety and this time, it works as well. You lean into him and find yourself frowning, as you feel wet material still on his body. Without thinking much, you poke it, “Ugh, change your jeans as well, AtsuAtsu. I got something hot to eat and drink, but you get it only after you have already changed.” 

“W-what?” 

You giggle at his bewildered face and reach over to pinch his nose. He leans down for you, his eyes still widened, as he lets you do that. 

“Did you think I just abandoned you, dumb-dumb?” you question. Your voice is gentle, not even trying to hide your adoration towards him, “Not dying on my watch, bitch. I’m telling Osamu, by the way. He will never let you live that down. Jumping into the river for a mascot? What _were_ you thinking?” 

_Were you even thinking? Why didn’t you wait to talk that though, you idiotic idiot?_ goes unsaid. For a second, he just looks at you, the corners of his ears pink, as he seeks something in your face. You roll your eyes and pinch his nose again, not keen on waiting for him the whole eternity. 

His hand leaves your waist and comes to your forehead, as he leans down, leaving a precious kiss on the top of your hair. A little sound leaves your lips. This you didn’t expect. You did nothing spectacular or awesome. You probably did something super stupid. You should have called the ambulance, so why does he look at you as if you were the center of his universe? 

“Sunshine,” he whispers into your hair, still holding your hair in his palms, “My dearest, thank you.”

A tender smile appears on his face. You can’t help the blush that attacks your cheeks. It feels - it feels good to be thanked so sincerely, even if you didn’t do anything really important. 

“W-whatever,” you whimper, avoiding his gaze, “Y-you still not getting it without changing!” 

At that, the smile changes into a mischievous one, as he releases you from his claws, stepping back. You turn around and look at him intently. He snickers, however, you can’t help but think it’s not a genuine chuckle. He doesn’t look at you all, as he opens his mouth. 

“I would hug you, but I don’t want to get you wet in that way.” 

He wiggles his eyebrows. His voice is so, so cocky that you can’t help but narrow your eyes at the sudden change. Seriously, now he tries his stupid flirty lines? Maybe you would be much more impressed with his words was he not shivering like a stupid teenager who just jumped into the fucking river. 

“Don’t you ever try to leap off the bridge if you don’t want your skull fractured,” you say to him sweetly. He still doesn’t meet your eyes, so you reach over and tug the pockets of his jeans, “AtsuAtsu, go change already. You are so going to get sick!” you sigh loudly, “Just don’t flash any poor girl. Our lawyer doesn’t need more harassment charges to deal with.”

“Any girl who would see me naked would feel blessed, [Name]-chan,” he tells you swiftly, the arrogant edge in his voice making you want to throw up. You fake doing just so, causing him to laugh, before he points at your current problem, “Wanna do something with him? Or should I take care of that?” 

Dalmatian Puppy is still rolling around in the grass. That’s probably not healthy to do so when he is freezing, but you don’t know how to stop him. Seriously, you don’t even know this boy’s name. You have no idea why he would jump into the river for a stranger. 

That’s a little sweet, okay, you can admit that, but also hella reckless. How old is he? He should know better or not leave the house without a tight leash around his throat. You don’t want to leave him to Atsu, though, mostly because he has to change his clothes. 

“Got it, I think?” you say way too hesitant. You gesture to the sweatpants you bought for him and he clicks his tongue, but moves, though you sense his eyes don’t leave the two of you. You take a deep breath, before calling out, “Hey, Oreo Cookie?” 

Dalmatian stops rolling at your words, so that’s a success. You have to start somehow, and get an animal to hear you - wait, why do you act as if he was a puppy for real? You frown, taking a few steps closer to the boy before you. You wave awkwardly. 

His shining hunter’s eyes stop at you and you feel a shiver going through your spine. Somehow, he feels dangerous in this strange childishness. You wouldn’t call him a serial killer, you repeat, but maybe somebody like a terrorist-in-the-making.

That doesn’t exactly make you feel better. At least serial killers are the monsters you know. He is a question mark. He is Tokyo’s Puffy. He is Enigma, and Mr. Turing is not there anymore to help you. Wonderful. 

“Hi,” you whisper, crouching next to him. Atsumu’s eyes follow you and, this one time, you don’t feel angry about that lack of trust. You don’t know the person in front of you. Any sort of assistance will be appreciated, “H-how are you?” 

You hope he is seriously changing those stupid pants right. If he is not, then he is going to get sick which means he is going to complain because there is no way in hell you or Osamu will let him play volleyball, no matter how much he will try to bribe you with sweets. 

You smile awkwardly as you take the towel Oreo Cookie shoved aside and offer it to him hesitantly. He looks at you like an untrustful puppy, making your smile a little bit more genuine. 

“Don’t talk to me,” he replies, causing your heart to stop. W-why? Wait, what have you done wrong already?! You hear more than see the scowl forming on Atsu’s face, but before he can react, Oreo Cookie shouts dramatically, “I promised you to take care of your mascot and I didn’t! You shouldn’t talk to me at all! I don’t deserve it! Be angry at me!” 

Like, Kakashi is safe on the ground. So, he took care of it, right? What is he talking about?

“I’m the one who found it,” you hear Atsumu’s voice agreeing with Puppy. _Yeah, go ahead_ , you think as your hand trembles, _Just pour gasoline onto the fire_ , “She’s _my_ precious childhood friend, so that makes sense. The most important thing is that we got her Kakashi back.” 

“But it was supposed to be me!”

 _Is he a five?_ You feel sweat rolling down your neck as you look at Oreo Cookie, who childishly crosses his arms around his chest. You hastily shift your gaze, watching his lower lip quiver as you can’t help but think that you need an adult. For him. 

A magical adult to solve all of your problems doesn't appear. Fuck. You will have to do it yourself. You find yourself sighing as you lean down to the boy and start to mop his hair for him. You cringe a little at that gesture, knowing that wiping hair with a towel is one of the Big No-No’s of hair care, but it’s not like you have any choice. 

He shakes his head like a dog, blinking at you with surprise.

“Oreo Cookie, listen,” you start softly, as you move to wipe his face, “It’s true that the one who got my Kakashi was AtsuAtsu, but that’s not a problem there. Sit up for me, okay?” you are surprised to see him listen to your plea. His earnest eyes never leave yours, but at least you easier access to h-his body, “I-I’m super-super grateful that you wanted to die for my plushie, but it’s not something you should do. That’s dangerous, yo. You could die. _Atsu-chan could die.”_

There is a thing you don’t say. You just don’t feel the need to speak up about that right now. You know that if his actions ended up with Atsumu getting seriously hurt, you would never _forgive_ him. You would hunt him down to the end of the Earth until you made sure he would hurt him again. 

Yeah, but he is not wounded and was stupid enough to jump off on his own. You are not exactly happy, but you can live with that, even as you still remember dark images of your friend’s death. Atsumu is alive, and that’s what's important, so you can still smile on Oreo Cookie. You can still be kind to him. You can still help him. 

You do exactly that, wiping the mood from a cheek and smiling. It seems your quiet explanation has him enamored because the dude can’t take his eyes away from you even for the moment. You are pretty sure he is not even blinking, which is a little concerning and creepy, but you are not about to look a gifted horse in the mouth. 

You giggle to yourself. This one idiom is funny. 

“But you said he is important and you worked hard,” he finally mumbles. You wrinkle your nose at that causing him to pull the most dangerous weapon humanity has created. No, no nuclear bomb. Puppy eyes. 

Fuck, you never thought you would feel so weak against them. You trained with the Miya twins. You should be better at dealing with guilt-tripping! What the hell? Is that his superpower? It’s crazy effective! 

“W-well, I love Kakashi, don’t get me wrong, okay?” you breathe down nervously, stopping your work for the moment, “But, but, but, he is not worth your or Atsu’s life. I-I can always get another one.” 

That’s true, no matter how much you hate to admit that. Kakashi may never forgive you, but his mascot is not worth anybody’s life. For sure, it’s not worth Atsumu’s life or health, or happiness. You guess not Oreo’s life as well, though it may be because of the influence his pretty eyes have on you. Ugh. Look at you. Being responsible, how disgusting.

With an awkward smile, you drop a damp towel next to your thigh and look around for the bag with clothes. You find it just nearby, so you crawl up to it and take the blouse you got for him and sweatpants out. You wave them in his direction.

“C-change, please?” you flinch under his watchful gaze. He seriously looks intimidating, even with those sad eyes, “Q-quickly. You w-will get sick, you know, and that’s not good. Hey, did any of you drink any water in the river? D-dry drowning is still a thing and - “ 

“So you are not angry?” he stops your ramblings, completely ignoring what you have said. Seriously, is that everything he got from your chatter? You bite down your lip and hesitantly come closer to him once more, placing the clothes on his knees. 

He ignores them, seeing only _you_. Awkward. You raise your eyes to seek Atsumu and see him already changed. He is observing the interaction sharply, ready to react if the boy tries to stab you or something. His lips twist into a smile when he notices your gaze and he gives you a curt nod, stepping closer to the two of you.

With this acquired support, you pat his head gently. You can never go wrong with headpats, right? 

“N-no, I’m not. I’m - I’m just worried, you know,” you take the strand of your hair and clumsily twist it around your finger. Social interactions will always be the bane of you, and gosh, you try, you do, but it’s hard to choose the correct words, “S-so, get up, okey-dokey yo?” your point to the second bag with your head, “I got some ramen and meat buns for you and AtsuAtsu. To warm you up, yeah?” 

He still does nothing for the second, just watching you, before his face breaks into a huge grin that leaves you stumped. Huh?

“Hey, hey, hey!” he shouts, way too loud for somebody who was depressed just moments ago. He takes your hands into his own, completely ignoring the way Atsumu screeches at that, “Thank you, Choco-chan! You are the best!” 

“Choco-chan?” you repeat, a bit dumbfounded as you look around as if to seek the said _Choco_ because there is no way in hell he called you that. 

“If I’m Oreo Cookie, then you are Dark Chocolate,” he nods seriously, explaining the logic behind his words. Only there is no logic in his words at all, so you just observe him with big eyes, “But it’s too long to say, so Choco-chan!”

He smiles at you with such pride in himself you can’t exactly react. Is-is that how people feel when you give them strange nicknames? Well, that fucking sucks, but it’s not going to stop you. 

You are okay with nicknames, honest! But why - why - why is he calling you Dark Chocolate? Yeah, you are still wearing your goth getup, but there is nothing super dark about you. Wait. He just did what you are doing. He used Uno’s Reverse Card on you. 

“O-okay,” you agree, unsure about how to feel about it. At the very least, it sounds cute, even if you would drop chocolate for matcha without blinking. Dark chocolate even faster, feh, it’s so bitter you don’t want to be associated with it. Milk chocolate is cool though, so you will not complain.

For now. Does it mean you have to wear black every day now? Not that you mind much, but you don’t think you have enough black clothes with you - 

Your thoughts are stopped as you suddenly feel somebody yanking you backward, sending you straight into their arms. It’s your somebody, of course, so you lift your fingers to snap them into Atsumu’s chin. He doesn’t react to your taunt, choosing to embrace his hands protectively closed around your body as he fakely smiles in the direction of Oreo Cookie. 

“I would appreciate it if you kept your hands away from my precious childhood friend,” yeah, you know that this pleasant-sounding tone of his is one big lie and behind it hides the anger of a very angry porcupine. You wish you could say he doesn’t bite, but yeah, he does, so you stay silent, waiting for him to say something smart, “They are too dirty to touch her.” 

You could wait the whole eternity and it still wouldn’t be enough time for Tsu to use his poor brain cells. Are they even alive at this point? Probably not.

You scrunch your nose, not keen on how he interfered when you had everything in control, but - but - but you don’t want to start another argument when you just reconciled. This one is no big deal, not like your hydrangeas, because as much as you are sure that Oreo Cookie doesn’t mean your harm, you never are sure what a crazy terrorist will do. 

One minute, everything is fine, and the second, you are suddenly hostage, everything is on fire, and then some handsome Corsican calls himself the Emperor. Not that you would mind handsome Corsican right now. 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, you are right, I’m still wet, sorry about that, Choco-chan!” you feel a sweat slowly dropping from your forehead. He didn’t understand Atsumu tried to insult him, did he? Suddenly, as if his brain just realized that he is cold, he starts to rub his v-very nice arms, trying to get warmer, “It’s so cold!” 

“I d-don’t mind, AtsuAtsu is just overprotective,” you mutter softly, causing the blond to snort in the answer. You jam your elbow into his chest, silencing him efficiently for now. He still holds you, though. Well, you can’t have everything, so you shift your attention to Oreo Cookie anyway. You offer him a shy smile, “T-there are clothes for you to change into.” 

You point with your finger to the clothes on his knees. He looks down at them, linking his big, yellow eyes slowly before a brilliant smile appears on his face. It’s so bright that you are sure looking at him without sunglasses endanger people to becoming blind or getting cancer. Jesus F. Christ, and you thought that Yuu was like the Sun. 

Nope, you were wrong. The friendship ended with Nishinoya Yuu. Now, Oreo Cookie is the brightest star in this galaxy. Seriously, the walking ball of energy is not even Sirius compared to the person before you. More like Arcturus or Vega. 

“You are the best, Choco-chan! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaims cheerfully. He sounds so confident you can’t help the blush from blossoming on your cheeks. Atsumu gives a short snort of derision

You sense he wants to say something and you mentally prepare for the stupidity he is about to unleash, but before he can even open his mouth, you spy with the corner of your eye Oreo Cookie reaching to the bottom hem of his shirt and - 

He pulls it off. 

_He pulls it off._

Three things happen at the same time.

You shriek, embarrassment filling your whole body as the muscles you _respectfully watched_ moments ago suddenly appear in all of their glory, full HD, sixty frames for a second. It’s too much for your poor, poor heart, even though you see them for about three seconds max. Then, your view is covered by a hand that you guess belongs to Atsu. A curse rolls from his mouth. 

Yeah, he just made Osamu proud for the first time in his life and the younger twin is not even there to acknowledge that. Damn it, Atsumu can never win. 

You pay silent respects to him. Not only for swearing but also for saving your life from demise. Yeah, you doubt you would survive for long if you gaped on his abs. You already feel like you are about to get a nosebleed. His chest is probably radioactive or something like that to cause such reactions, _frickity-frick_. Elephant’s foot? Get out there, Oreo Cookie is the most dangerous thing on the planet Earth now. 

“Hey, Oreo Cookie-kun, what the fuck is wrong with you?“ Atsumu interrogates darkly, using the tone he normally reserves for Osamu. Uh-oh. Angery Atsumu is angery. He sounds positively murderous, “How about you leave this strip-tease for the poor and desperate? My sunshine doesn’t need things like that to scar her psyche.” 

You blink.

“Since when do you know the word psyche, Atsu-chan?” you utter in complete confusion, reaching over to pull his palms from your eyes. He clicks his tongue, stopping you by taking your hand into his and squeezing it. 

“Psyche?” you hear Oreo Cookie repeat the word, just as flabbergasted as you, but something tells you it’s from another reason whatsoever, “Wait, wait, wait, I will ask Akaashi what it means!” 

Akaashi? Is that a new web browser? 

“Hey, hey, hey, wait. My phone is _broken_!” 

Atsu finally releases your eyes, as he keels over in laughter. You tilt your head in confusion, looking at Oreo Cookie, disoriented. He, thankfully, put on the shirt you bought for him, so what’s this hullabaloo about? 

It takes you a second to understand why he is hopelessly shaking your phone, trying to get it to work. It looks - it looks damp, not damaged, which makes your thumb go to your lips, as you finally understand. 

“You jumped into the river with your phone?” you question him, fluttering your lashes. Atsumu laughs even harder. Oreo Cookie pouts, his miserable face focused on the phone, “What the hell, bro?” 

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to at this point. Chtulhu, you seeing this shit? Your life is a joke at this point. How are you even to react to something like that? Just laugh harder, like AtsuAtsu? 

No, no, no. You bite down on your lip, doing your best not to scream from exasperation. Don’t be angry at the person who wanted to help you, [Name]. No matter how much you want to shake him, no matter how he deserves it, don’t do that. 

Oh please, is he now going to demand reparations from you and Atsu? Is this the moment when you escape? You have never been drunk in your life, but you instinctually know that you are too sober for this. 

You look with bewilderment as he finally abandons his phone, leaving it on the ground as he crouches down and starts drawing something with his finger on the ground, holding his knees with his second palm. 

_Sad puppy_ , you think, _He is literally a sad puppy_. _Nobody taught me how to resists sad puppies_. _Oh, Lord of the Darkness_ , _is that the new strategy of the terrorists? Kill us all with cuteness? Or does he pretend to be so pitiable so I lower my guard and let myself get killed? Or scammed? What is worse on this point?_

Probably getting scammed. Yeah, getting scammed is worse. If you are dead, you can’t feel the shame at the very least. 

Well, if that was his plan, you have to applaud his skills. He is such good an actor that it’s hard to see him as the evil manipulator he is. Seriously. You release a stream of air from your cheeks. You just want to tug his cheeks and promise that everything will be fine, even when you know nothing will be even remotely okay. 

“A-are the rest of your things fine at least?” you decide to say instead. You clasp your hands and place them on your knees, trying your hardest to no throw them at Oreo Cookie, “Y-you can call s-somebody from Atsu’s phone.”

At those words, Atsu finally stops laughing. He still has a shit-eating grin on his face, but at least he is not dying from amusement anymore. You shot him a glance, but he only shrugs, far too satisfied with himself. 

“I lost my key,” Dalmatian mutters, not even looking back at you, still in the middle of a depressive episode, “My sisters are out of the city and will be back tomorrow. I’m going to sleep in the park.” 

“Aren’t you overdramatizing, Oreo-kun? What about your parents?” Atsu asks, finally stopping wasting the air. You nod fervently, but Puppy waves his hand in his direction dismissively. Wow. Rude. You narrow your eyes while Atsumu arches one eyebrow of his, “Any relatives in Tokyo? Friends?” 

“Kuroo lives the closest,” comes his answer, “But he is already asleep.”

“It’s not even eleventh,” you point up, checking up the time on Atsu’s phone. The blond’s reaction at that is curious. Or rather, just plain strange. He visibly pales when he sees you holding his phone. You send him a questioning look, but he avoids your eyes. 

“Kuroo-cchi is an old man.” 

“O-okay?” 

He is friends with old people? Okay, that sounds creepy out of context. You don’t have a context, so yeah, creepy. You share the look with Atsumu. Or at least, you try to do it. The demon is still averting his gaze.

Well, then, time to do stupid shit you will regret later on your own. You take a deep breath and calm your nerves before you open your mouth. 

“How about you will stay the night with us?”

* * *

When you plan the plot to take place in one chapter, but end up writing way too much and have to part it:l We start a little subplot with our first Tokyo boi ~ Ngl, writing Bokuto is a little bit hard, because - what are you even doing half of the time, bro? I don't know. He probably doesn't know. Lol, hope you enjoyed it anyway!

Thank you for reading!


	42. In which following other people's advice is probably stupid (so, you do exactly that).

“Absolutely not.” 

Atsu doesn’t even _try_. If you have to be truthful, then you didn’t expect him to do so but that doesn’t change the sense of disappointment streaming through your body. You are not the kind of person to hold negative emotions in, of course, so you pursue your lips in a vicious pout, ready to turn around and give him a piece of your mind. 

It would be a very nasty piece of your mind, to be specific. You found a solution that will not end with you being sued for endangering minors. He should applaud you. Worship the very ground you stomp on! Revere in your non-existent beauty or some shit! Not give you unwanted grief. Yeah, he should be more than grateful for that, not sulk like a child whose favorite toy was taken away. You didn’t even propose for Oreo Cookie to take his bed, you are willing to give up yours and sleep on the floor or - more likely - share a bed with Atsumu or somebody else. 

You have no idea if Oreo Cookie is minor. He doesn’t seem to be much older, but those _muscles_. Those damned abs. You can’t trust them. So, he is probably an old teenager or young adult and you are not going to get fucked over by some stupid laws. 

Returning to the reality of the situation, though, not drifting towards uncouth thoughts, you are just about to deliver a mocking rebuke to him, but you are met with one, significant problem. 

“Really, really, really?!” 

Yeah, hello to you too, Problem. 

It’s hard to breathe when somebody is crushing you in their nice, muscular arms, not to say anything about chiding childhood friends. Oreo Cookie, in all of his wisdom (that’s it - none), ignored Atsumu and just straight up launched himself on you, taking you into the most bone-scattering hug you have even had the doubtful pleasure to be in.

You have to let out your inner samurai and invest in some katana, or tanto, or wakizashi to scare people away or you are going to end up getting a heart attack. Anxiety, your old friend, instantly fills your veins and it doesn’t help that Oreo is completely oblivious to any of that, pulling you even more against his chest. 

A strange noise leaves your mouth - something between a mouse’s squeak and a cry of the murder victim as the world spins around you because yes, your face is firmly pushed against his chest. 

Cthulhu, you think you are dying. You have to repeat yourself. His _chest_. 

Gods help you, you are so going to _faint._ Yeah, you are about to lose your consciousness. Requiescat in pace, Date [Name]. What a pathetic death way to die, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

At least let you blow up something, Lord Satan! 

It’s the very same, chiseled chest that you _may have_ checked out before. The one who would leave any person drooling like a fool. But, but, but it is simply impossible to not see _it_ now, and that’s-that’s not good at all. In your personal list of the disasters, it is just below going on _the spending time with Puffy_ and _the Miya twins planning something_. In other words, it’s the third Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History. 

Well, wait, supposedly you had a date with Puffy. Not a real one. Fake one. But it was still a date. Fake-date. Yeah, okay, that doesn’t count, nevermind. Returning to the reality of the situation - or maybe not, maybe you should just stay in the safety of your mindscape and, you don’t know, imagine unicorns or something? 

A smell of milkweeds, grass, and river hits you, making such escape impossible. Worst of all, you came to realize, is that while you feel embarrassed and nervous, you are not exactly anxious about him hurting you. You don’t know him for an hour and yet, you feel so insanely safe as if nothing could ever hurt you again.

Gods know that people like Ted Bundy would have you wrapped around their little fingers if you are so eager to trust a stranger. 

“Hey, Oreo Cookie-kun, you have exactly three seconds to let go of my childhood friend, the light of my life, my Sun that is brighter than one on the sky, before I _crush_ you, you damn scrub.” 

You are saved! By death threats. That is so _an Atsumu_ thing to do. Death threats, you suppose, are a funny thing. If somebody directed them at you or any of your friends, you would politely request such person to go fuck themselves. If you are one to offer such a threat, then you use your words to intimidate the enemy more than actions, but when one of the Miya twins is behind it, it becomes a little more complicated. 

Because you know that Atsumu doesn’t threaten people, per se. He likes his plots, the little shit. _He promises them_ hasty retribution. There is no doubt in your mind, that even if the laws of men say no, your stupid friend will deliver if not exactly in the forms you expect. Your poor teachers found it one way or another. 

Osamu, on the other hand, would just punch a bitch.

An awkward giggle rises out of your mouth. It sounds muffled thanks to Oreo, or rather, thanks to the Oreo’s chest. Because, because, because, you are still against him. You have to fix that and flee, flee your fool, preferably faster than lightning. 

So, unsurely, you push your hands against the chest - and yeah, it’s the same, muscled chest again, you are never going to live this down, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

To your surprise, you free yourself easily as Oreo Cookie lets go at the slightest resistance coming from you to your surprise. Too big of a surprise. You seriously didn’t expect that and well, shit. You drop from his arms like a doll.

Owwie. The ground is not the best thing to fall to, but it still beats the concrete. Or the tar. Or the radioactive waste coming from Chernobyl. Hey, maybe it’s not so bad all things considered. 

You groan anyway, letting the world know how much you hate it. With that done, you peacefully, and very manically, can scramble back to your feet. You leave Dalmatian Puppy on the grass alone, with all spiders and insects.

His face, you spy with the corner of your eye, is something straight out of the emojis set. Just two big eyes, looking at you with such confusion that you start to get confused from just gazing into them. No time to stay and look at him for long, though, it’s time to make your escape to the safe zone called Atsu’s arms. 

You take several steps back and find yourself hiding behind Atsumu’s strong back. Your blond friend takes your presence with a confident smile that is so false you could probably create a whole falsetto out of it. You don’t do that, too busy with taking the hem of his shirt in your palms. The very same shirt you bought for him, it’s worth noting. He can act as your shield if you got out and bought him things! 

Okay, okay, you purchased them, but with his money, so this doesn’t quite qualify as the gift, but still - 

“This is why,” he says in this awful coincident tone of his, taking you under his arm, “You don’t say things so suggestive without meaning them, sunshine. Listen, scrub,” he addresses Oreo Cookie, still smiling as he insults him, “Don’t you even dare think about her like that. She didn’t mean whatever your trashy brain tells you.” 

You are taken aback a bit by his words. You blink for a second, trying to understand what he means by _suggestive_. Seriously, you just proposed to spend a night with you - 

_Spend a night with you._

_Oh._

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you just proposed a threesome and it got accepted.” 

Atsu’s words don’t help you at all. Your poor, poor brain shatters into thousands of shards, never to be quite the same because you just _propositioned_ somebody. To say that your face catches a flame is the understatement of the century because right now your feel as if thousands of suns just fucking blew up at your stupid, moronic face as you slowly comprehend the words you have spoken before. 

_Spend a night with you,_ your mind repeats, not helping at all, but instead of that, winking and nudging you in a provoking manner. You want to die from sheer embarrassment. 

Okay, so, let’s get one thing out of the way. You are not a good person, but you are pure of heart, even if the said heart is blacker than deeps of hell. Your innocence towards certain topics is unquestionable and you would never, never, just straight up say something so suggestive and vulgar. 

So yeah, okay, okay, okay, but there’s another thing that needs to be said. You are still a teenage girl who knows things she absolutely should not and have a way over-imaginative mind. Normally, it’s cool. You can think about all those interesting ways to kill somebody. Now? Now it’s not cool. Not cool at all.

Those damned abs. It’s all their fault. Now, you understand how coach Oomi feels all the time, because you would really, really appreciate a shot of vodka. Or two shots. Three. Ten, please. Fuck that, you need the whole bottle. Maybe there is some Russian or Polish blood in your Japanese ancestry to help you survive drinking so much in one go. 

Unfortunately, vodka doesn’t come down as rain, so you have no choice but to nudge your head into Atsu’s tummy, hiding even more. Instantly, you feel the fleeting touch on it. Well, look at you, getting a headpat. Yeah, that doesn’t make you feel better, but you lean into the touch, conspiring in your thoughts. 

You have a big announcement to make. Officially, you just decided you want to die. Now, preferably. Where are serial killers when you need them? Somebody call ninjas and spies, fuck, you would take fucking Washijo at this point, anyone, just take you out of this misery. 

If thinking about the ambiguity of your words wasn’t bad enough, the second part of his sentence attacks you at once. It got accepted. Somebody wanted to _do_ that with you?! And s-somebody with such muscles?! 

No, no, no, That’s impossible! Not that you want to, but just-no-no-no. _Just kill me already_ , you beg the Lord of Darkness. _Before I embarrass myself even further. Or do something stupid. Or embarrass myself by doing something stupid. I don’t care, just end my life, please, please, with a cherry on the top?_

“Hm? Threesome? I thought that you offered a place to sleep at night?” you hear Oreo’s voice. He mumbles something after that, but you are too preoccupied with what he said to care about anything else. 

You never knew a person could be brought back to life by words alone, and yet, there you are. You swear you could fly as something you can only discern as smugness blossoms on your face. You twist your lips in a smirk and raise your head, looking straight into Atsumu’s red face. 

“Not. Another. Word,” he demands harshly, flustered beyond belief. You gleefully ignore his order and jam a finger into his abdomen. 

“Pervert,” the insult rolls out of your tongue easily as you gleefully ignore his order, poking his arm with a finger, “Deviant. Degenerate. Sicko!” 

“[Name], stop that,” he whimpers pathetically, shoving you a little away from himself. No matter how embarrassed he feels, he still makes sure that the push doesn’t trip you over, though, “Why? Why? It’s all your fault. You don’t even know his name!”

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou!” Oreo Cookie jerks his body up, closing to you with a smile that goes from one of his ears to another. He completely is missing the point Atsu wants to make, isn’t he? “It’s nice to meet you!” 

Is it, though? He is just recovering from cold-ass river water. There are nicer ways to make acquaintances, though it certainly left a strong impression on you. 

You gingerly bow your head, as you introduce yourself, “My name is Date [Name]. This is Miya Atsumu. It’s n-nice to meet you, Bokuto-san.” 

Ha, look at that. You have manners, somewhere deep, deep down in you. Now, if you only didn’t stutter like a fool, you could at least pretend to be a functioning member of society. Atsu, on the other hand, could never. He doesn’t even try to follow your gesture. His eyes narrow at Oreo, who in turn huffs out in an annoyed manner. 

“Call me Oreo Cookie, Choco-chan,” he says, childishly irritated at you, crossing his arms around his-his c-chest, “I like it better when you call me that!” 

Oh. What is that feeling, growing in your chest like a weed? Is it fondness? Yeah, you bet your ass it is. This is so _silly,_ you can’t help it. Terrorists and their special forces truly have strange training. You don’t fight back the urge to smile at him, however shyly it ends up being, being glad to grant this one particular request. 

“O-okay, Oreo-chan.”

It doesn’t mean you will share your power and influence with him when you finally become the ultimate supervillain and the supreme Overlord of mankind. Nonetheless, his eyes twinkle and he grins, the smile that he grants you devouring his face. Yeah, he is not a human being after all, but a Dalmatian pup, like you thought earlier. 

Huh. You glaze over him once and can’t help the sinking feeling of your stomach as something feels a little bit off. A deja vu, if you can call it that, seeps through your very being. It takes you a second to understand, but yeah, that is a strange sense of familiarity that you feel. 

You tap your foot nervously and link your hands behind your back as you wonder where you heard that name before. Seriously, should you know him? Did you know him? Is that cliche _secret childhood friend that you totally forgot_ trope? 

All this thinking means that you don’t notice the fierce glare that Atsumu ever-so-gracefully bestows upon you. You blink at him, silently asking what the fuck he is at. Your friend shakes his head, as if in exasperation, clearly happy about holding something over your head. 

Sometimes, he is such a pain in the ass, and in times like that, it’s good to remember that violence is always an option. An option that you don’t hesitate to take as you kick him in the ankle. He frowns, being the dramatic little shit, raising his eyes as if asking if it was necessary. You don’t answer, bobbing your head and smiling angelically, because yes, that was. 

“Because that sort of coincidence happens only in mangas, I’m pretty sure,” you hear him mumbling to himself. You wrinkle your nose at that. The grin returns to his face, though you can see it’s super strained, ”Sunshine, do you have some sort of magnet that attracts volleyball players in you?” 

You tilt your head in confusion. That gesture doesn’t hurt as much as it used to do in past days, which means you are probably fine now, right? No doctors for you, yay! Hey, but returning to the matter at hand. _What, in the cursed name of Lord Satan, the ruler of all circles of hell, does he mean? Did I hear him right? If so, why the fuck -_

“I know you have spoken words,” you start, very slowly, making sure you stress every one of the words leaving your mouth, “But I don’t think I understood any of them. Once more, this time as if you were speaking to a five years old kid?” 

Who would have thought this time would come? You, asking Atsu for a scientific definition. It is just so strange because he didn’t use any words you don’t know. You know their meaning Magnet, attracts volleyball players. Easy words, right? You are pretty damn sure you knew them before you were four. So, how is that brought together they are a mystery Sherlock Holmes himself couldn’t hope to decipher? 

He got you and got you good, that he did. Stupid Atsumu. You just continue looking at him silently while he cocks his chin, infinitely proud of himself. 

“Choco-chan, you play volleyball too?!” Oreo Cookie suddenly hops up to you, excitement clear in his voice as the skies above of you. Now he is a bunny, not a puppy, huh, he could open a zoo all by himself, “What position?! I’m my team’s Ace - “ 

Oh, finally, something you _do_ understand! 

“That's what Momjiro is!” you cut in, exclaiming the words with joy you shouldn’t feel for remembering something as rudimentary as that. But yeah, fuck that, you are proud of yourself for that, “Right, Atsu-chan?!” 

Tsu looks at you with pity, making you think of the way a mother gazes at their particularly stupid child. That’s super rude of him, so you feel that your next action is completely understandable. 

Yeah, you kick him again. 

“[Name], stop this,” he whines and bends down to massage the place you abused seconds ago, “And don’t compare Aran to him, he is way better.” 

You nod seriously, placing your finger on your lips in agreement. Momjiro is better, mostly because you are a biased person who will always favor your own. Hey, at least you can confess to that! 

“What, that’s not true!” Bokuto screams out, amusingly waving his hands around, “I would definitely defeat him!” 

“But you lost to Inarizaki last year,” Atsu taunts, his face smug as he finally can make somebody miserable, “And you are going to lose this year.” 

“He is?” 

“I am?” 

Both you and Bokuto look over to Atsumu who gives in an answer endearing smile. Endearing to you, that’s it. You are pretty for normally functional people would call it a shit-eating grin or something like that, but for you, it’s very much a sweet smile that warms you in that cold night. 

Yeah, it’s cold. Stupid spring weather.

“He is from Fukurodani,” you wrinkle your nose on the words, not understanding what owls have to do with all of that. He sighs and reaches over to caress your cheek with his thumb, “We’re playing against him in coming days, sunshine. Could care to remember our opponents at least, huh?

“Tokyo is mysterious and full of animals,” you only vocalize, shrugging your shoulders, “How the hell am I supposed to remember all of them when I have so much important stuff to remember? December twenty-fifth of the year 1804! The coronation of Napoleon Bonaparte as the Emperor of the French!” 

You wiggle your arms as in the awkward dance and pull out finger guns at him. When Atsu’s eyes meet yours, you wink cheekily, provoking a laugh from his mouth. Once again, you feel his hand on your face, pinching you gently and in turn, making _you_ giggle. 

“Well, I don’t know what you are talking about,” Bokuto scrunches his nose, looking from you to Atsu, “But I don’t care. Bring it on, Choco-chan, Vanilla-kun!” 

Your giggle turns into a full-blown laugh when you see the face Atsumu pulls at those words. His scream echoes through the town and can probably be heard back at Amagasaki. 

“Did you just call me _Vanilla-kun_?!”

* * *

Returning to the hotel from that point is easier than you thought. With both Atsu and Oreo Cookie in the clean, warm clothes you have no trouble finding an uber driver that is comfortable letting two damp teen boys and one hungry teenage girl in their car for several thousand yens. 

To be honest, it took the man one look to decide he adopts all of you. 

“Get in, quickly,” he ushers you all, dropping a still-lit cigarette from the window of the car. You frown at that, but open the door nevertheless, hastily moving so the boys can join you, “You look like hell, kids. What happened to you all?” 

You open your mouth at the same time when Atsumu does. 

“Nothing at all.” 

“They jumped into the fucking river.” 

TsuTsu clicks his lips in distaste, but you don’t feel guilty at all for selling him to that random stranger. The said driver very slowly turns around to look from his seat at you. You flash him a peace sign, while Oreo Cookie grins widely as he closes the car’s door behind him.

“Do I want to know?” the driver asks as he sighs deeply, “No matter, let’s get you back home, kids.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he launches the engine and you are off to your hotel. Or at least you hope you are. The driver looks nice enough, but he still could be a kidnapper or serial killer looking for victims. You bite down on your lip, as you shift your gaze towards your companions.

They both look like shit, no matter how much you tried to help them. 

Their hair is still dripping wet, to the point you placed Atsu’s jacket around Bokuto’s neck and your hoodie around the blond, trying your best to shield them from the coldness. You getting a little bit cold was better than using damp, muddy towels for that. 

None of them complained, even though they had every right to do so. Atsu even had the audacity to refuse your hoodie and you had to force it on him. 

You also made sure that they ate the warm soup and meat buns you bought (the devil dared again to force one meat bun in your hands and you had no choice but to eat it), and drank their tea. It doesn’t ease your worries at all, but you can do nothing about it. 

You hate this helplessness. You essentially feel like you are a maiden left by her husband who left for the war, who can do nothing but wait. And yeah, waiting sucks. It sucks a lot. 

Well, at least you persuaded Atsu to take Oreo Cookie with you. Okay, so there was not a lot of persuading. Just a little bit of negotiation. You feel your hand twirling the strand of your hair on its own, still unsure about how exactly you are supposed to react to the words that left your childhood friend’s lips. 

TsuTsu didn’t argue with you long about him. He gave up the moment you pulled your puppy eyes on him. It was really good to know that they worked against him just like always, even if they were entirely worthless against Zizi. 

_Maybe Zizi is a superhuman or something_ , you remember thinking, _His patience against Puffy is superhuman-like quality._

Then, Atsu had to destroy your careless thoughts without even blinking. He had one condition that he refused to back down from even when you pulled his lower lip down in an ancient torture technique and not a random thought that appeared in your mind. 

“He is not going to sleep in your room, [Name]-chan, and no amount of pouting will change that,” he said, trying to swat your hand away. You hold on, not letting go and standing your ground until he slapped your hand lightly. At that, you released his lip and crossed your arms in defiance. 

“Why?” you hissed like a snake, “Cuz you don’t trust me to take care of myself? You know I could take anyone down, right?!”

“Are you in danger, Choco-chan?” Oreo Cookie questioned absentmindedly, narrowing his eyes before he pointed his thumb towards himself, “Don’t worry, I will protect you!” 

“No, thank you.” 

That caused Bokuto to become sullen once more, crouching down and drawing something in the sand again. A sneer left your mouth and you looked around challengingly at the world, waiting for the universe to fight back. The universe decided to not play fair, of course. It never does. 

“Listen, sunshine,” a hand came to rest on the waist as Atsumu ruffled your hair with his other palm, “That’s not about trust, even if letting a strange man sleep in the same room as you, makes me want to commit genocide. It’s-it’s because Samu is not going to sleep tonight, so he can take his bed!” 

This was the crux of the matter. 

Or rather, it still is for you. 

“Why Osamu will not sleep?” you demanded to know instantly, squinting your eyes both in suspicion and worry, “What are you devils doing?!” 

There was a tug in your chest as you remembered that while your so-called marriage is back on the table with Atsumu, the same can’t be said for Osamu. Your best friend was - is - still officially in war with you. You would lie if that didn’t make you afraid, because, what if, what if, what if Osamu doesn’t want to be your friend anymore? 

It was a silly thought. You know there is no universe, no parallel world, in which Osamu Miya doesn’t want you, and yet, still, your brain can’t be cured of its’ idiocy. You still worry about that, even with Atsu’s reassurances. 

“He has to apologize on his own, just like I did,” was the answer he gave you back, ruffling your hair with affection once more, “Don’t worry your little pretty head over this, sunshine. His apology is going to suck compared to mine anyway.” 

_I don’t care if it sucks, you idiot, I just want him back._ Your precious, precious friend. Your _best_ friend. The one to always have your back. You want him back where he rightfully belonged, back beside you. You hope he wants you back as well. 

“Don’t worry about me, Choco-chan!” Bokuto tried to cheer you up, somehow back from his depressive episode without any help, “I’m going to be fine with Vanilla-kun!” 

_“Don’t call me that!_ ” 

To be honest, it feels pretty strange to leave with two people and return with three. What did your life become, _Liechtenstein 1866 Simulator_? 

Atsu also informed you that Osamu took the key to your room - or rather a card because they use fucking cards there - and left with Shinsuke, just he did with theirs before he disappeared to do _stuff._ Yeah, fuck that. You already discreetly sent him a message, knowing that if you didn’t he would end worried sick. 

And then he would feel guilty because he wasn’t there to help his hopeless loser of the brother. While he replied, the said answer was just so out-of-character that it made your worries even stronger. 

Just simple _ok_. What the hell is that supposed to mean?! 

“It’s super cold this time of the year,” Oreo Cookie informs your driver, throwing his arms around the empty seat before him, “Don’t recommend swimming right now!” 

“It’s a very cold April,” the driver answers and you have to give it to the dude, he at least tries to sound understanding, “Do you make a habit of jumping into the river?” 

“Nope, it’s the first time for me!” 

That’s - that’s reassuring, you guess, forgoing your thoughts for now. You know Oreo Cookie for about half an hour and, to be honest, you are surprised that he survived to live for so long when his impulse control is nonexistent. 

You yawn tiredly, watching the buildings blurring around you. It definitely takes way too long to travel through Tokyo city, but at least you have Dalmatian and the driver’s chatter to entertain you. Atsu, to your surprise, stays quiet which prompts you to take hold of his hand and squeeze it. 

For a second, his amber eyes rest on your palm. Against his hand, it looks so much smaller, making you frown a little. Your hands are like baby’s if you disregard your short, but very sharp nails. Your nail polish is slowly coming off, though, so you will have to fix it in the coming future.

Just like you will have to fix Atsu’s hair. His roots are so visible you slowly start to doubt it will hold before you return home, but you are not super sure what to do about that. Dyeing his hair in the hotel would be very, very problematic with henna and you refuse to destroy his locks with a chemical dye. 

Your thoughts are stopped when you feel fingers interlacing with yours. Instantly, your bored expression morphs into a beaming smile. Holding hands is the best. Or the second best, just under cuddles and hugs. 

You hum with content, leaning up against his shoulder. 

“Tired, sunny?” comes his soft question. You close your eyes for the second, and yeah, yeah, you are exhausted. Gods, school trips are so nerve-wracking and heart attacks inducing, you can’t imagine doing shit like that every year. 

“Yup-yup,” you finally respond, popping softly the p, before you flutter your eyes and place your head against his chest, “I had fun today, you know. Let’s do that again sometime?” 

“Without or with jumping into the river thing?” he arches up his eyebrow, taking his free hand to tug a strand of the hair, the same one you twirled against your finger earlier, and tugs it behind your ear. Your locks, though, are just as rebellious as you are. They won’t be defeated so easily and so, you giggle as it defiantly falls from its place. 

Atsu frowns at that and you don’t fight the urge to pinch his nose, freeing yourself of his hold. 

“What, that’s your new hobby?” you ask mockingly, though, your eyes twinkle with adoration towards the boy beside you, “Going to jump into every river we encounter now?”

“One city, one river challenge,” he jokes or you hope he does joke. You narrow your eyes and poke his cheek, feeling a pout rising on your face. You are all for stupid ideas, but maybe even you have things you are not ready to risk. So, stupid, but not so stupid. 

“That doesn’t sound healthy,” the driver interrupts, causing Atsumu to glare at him. Your driver is very courageous and suicidal, though, because that doesn’t stop him from spewing nonsense, “Ach, to be young and in love…” 

Instantly, Atsu becomes redder than a chili pepper and leans backward, trying to put the space between the two of you. Only, he forgets that behind him is Bokuto, so he ends up nearly lying on the boy. Dalmatian Puppy doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, though, just shoving himself as far near the door as he can. 

Och. That’s - that’s sweet of him. 

You, on the other hand, are becoming way too accustomed to people thinking you are dating either of the twins, so your own blush is a much, much more subtle thing. Just a little flush around the corners of your ears, that’s all. 

“Are the two of you dating?” Bokuto asks boldly, without a hint of embarrassment or shame, and completely eviscerates your thoughts. He is not a sweet person, after all, maybe his title of Oreo Cookie should be revoked. 

“We are already married with three kids,” you roll your eyes, deciding that the distance created between you and your childhood friend is crime-worthy and closing it by leaning towards him. He shrieks at that. You feel sweat dripping down your forehead at that. What a drama queen, “No, you idiots, we’re just best friends.” 

You will curse anybody who thinks otherwise with the Busby's stoop chair. You dare with your glare for them to do so, way too fond about the thought of cursing somebody. That sounds like so much fun! Well, none of them answer, weaklings, so you let a sneer roll out from your mouth before shifting all of your attention towards Atsu. 

Your precious friend is still doing everything to not look at you, but you are not about to let him do that. You cup his head in your hands and place a chaste kiss on his nose, causing him to become even redder. 

That is the reiteration you place for all witnesses to see. The mark of your eternal friendship! And your loser of the friend can’t even have enough grace to let you do that. 

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” comes the driver’s way too doubtful reply. You snort at him, but he doesn’t answer to your provocation, focusing on the road. Yay, you guess that at the very least, you will not die in a car accident. 

“Oh, so that’s how it is. Cool,” Oreo Cookie says simply, nodding way too serious before returning to his cuddle pile with a seat in front of him. Okay, you have no idea if he believed you, but fuck that. 

You return to looking at Atsumu, your hands still placed on his cheeks. He glances back at you, way too bashfully, making you roll your eyes. Really, what is so embarrassing about affection? You intend to ask him that, but before you can, you feel the slight warmth of his hands on yours. 

“Tsu-chan?” you demand his attention at once, “We will visit the amusement park again, right?”

A chuckle escapes from his mouth as his expression morphs into something more gentle, his cheeks now more pink than red. 

“You are so needy, sunshine,” he whispers, his left hand caressing yours, “Needy and whimsy, and clingy. Such a baby.” 

“Of course I am,” you agree easily, “Don’t act as it is something new, you loser.” 

The reply to your previous query doesn’t come off his mouth. Instead, he takes his hands and places them around your shoulders. He leads you to his chest and you let him do that, leaning down and wiggling a little before you find the most comfortable position. That’s all you ever needed. Meh, who needs words anyway when you can show love towards your friends with actions? 

Nothing disturbs the comfortable silence between the two of you if you don’t count Bokuto still having an enthusiastic conversation with the driver. You don’t care. You are too busy being embraced. 

* * *

Your journey to the hotel is safely concluded when the driver finally stops in the parking lot before it. You yawn profoundly, way too tired now that you nearly fell asleep on Atsu, but still very much adamant about seeing both Atsumu and Oreo Cookie tucked into the beds. 

You also remain stubborn, not letting them help you carry bags with dirty clothing and your mascots. Yeah, you are not trusting those fools with anything. Not even with carrying your bags. The last thing you wanted was to leave something behind. The idiots you are traveling with would probably just leave you behind and race on foot to the river to get some lost item back. 

You wave goodbye to the cab’s driver and you are on your way to the over-the-top hotel. Okay, so, technically, it’s not a cab. Who cares? It works like a cab, so you feel entitled to call it a cab at least in your mind. 

You drag yourself after way-too-excited Bokuto and somewhat-content Atsu across the parking lot, your movements super sluggish as you wish for nothing more than a comfy bed. 

“Miya-san is waiting for us in your room, Tsu-chan,” you speak up. The need to rub your eyes arises, so you hook one of the bags to your arm and do so, wiping the sleepiness away. 

_Sleepy sleep, go away,_ you intone a melody in your mind, _Sleepy sleep will come later, Morpheus, please begone at once._

“It’s freaky to hear you say that,” Atsu confess, awkwardly massaging the back of his neck before reaching for your bag and stealing it away. You gasp, outraged, but he simply pulls out his eye and sticks out his tongue, “Finders keepers, losers weepers.” 

“That’s the definition of stealing, not finding!” you shout, about to enter into the open conflict with Atsumu, “Gimme back, Tsu-chan! You are about to die of dry drowning or something!” 

He clicks his tongue, completely ignoring your very sound reasoning and moving ahead, before abruptly turning around and taking you by the hand. You blink in surprise for a second since you don’t notice what he already did. Your rage subsidies the moment you do, because it makes sense. 

Your super-duper luxurious, extravagant hotel deploys revolving doors, the worst doors to even be invented in your humble opinion. Okay, so, while Atsu is not exactly _scared_ of revolving doors, he becomes deeply uncomfortable in them. Since your childhood, he claimed to feel just ever so softly spooked up in them. Osamu told you once that had to do with a small accident that happened before you two met, but AtsuAtsu all but rejected that from his mind, acting as if his minor claustrophobia didn’t exist. 

It’s not like you could help him much in this regard, you are not exactly a therapist, but Tsu always said that holding his hand is just enough. And yeah, yours and his twin's proximity seemed to reassure your blond friend a bit. This is why you decide to let it go this one time - and you regret it immediately, as your second bag is snatched by grinning Oreo. 

You shot him an unimpressed look, but the smile doesn’t disappear. Sunny-man. Man-Sun. Nothing can bring him down, huh. At least, you think, he doesn’t notice how suddenly Atsu's shoulders stiffen as you cross through the murderous doors of doom. You make sure to squeeze his hand tightly all the way through. You refuse to let go even as you pass the lobby of the hotel, trying to comfort him with your presence.

“But I thought Vanilla-kun’s name was Miya?” Bokuto questions, but there is no confusion in his voice this time. Just carelessness.

You are not going to lie, this hotel is somewhat better than the last one. Yeah, it’s still something more fit for nobility than the demons masquerading as teenagers, but what can you do when Inarizaki decides that it’s going to spoil its students? 

Instead of a castle-like interior, you are met with a modern-looking white and black lobby. Everything seemed elegant and tasteful. The staff also doesn’t look too much judging of your current, ekhem, predicament, letting you go to the nearest elevator without any problem. You already can feel pity for them. Such good people have to live, even work, with you nearby? Well, F for them. 

“I’m talking about his twin brother,” you explain patiently, swinging your intervened hands in an arch, “They are clones with the same set of DNA and names, and - “ 

“We don’t. I’m the better one. Also, the one more handsome,” the said Miya cuts in, “Just call by my name, Oreo-kun,” you are pretty sure that Tsu would wave him off dismissively if it was not for the fact he doesn’t possess free hands. 

“Okay, Tsumya!” 

Whatever Atsu was expecting, it was not that. You giggle, as he turns around, letting your hand go as he sends a death glare towards Bokuto. 

“My name is _Atsumu_!”

You press the button of the elevator when you find yourself close enough, thoroughly entertained by their little one-sided spat. 

“Tsumya sounds cuter, Atsu-chan, maybe I should call you that,” you see Bokuto practically preening at your praise, making a silly titter escape from your mouth as Atsu’s dirty look never leaves him. Feeling silly, you make a small gesture with your hand, acting like a kitten, “It sounds like a cat, Tsumya-chan, nyan ~ “

“Fuck, that was too cute.” 

You are pretty sure your soul leaves your body for a second as that particular voice resonates in the air. There is an edge to it that you didn’t hear previously, the normally bored tone morphed into something utterly defeated as the comment leaves his mouth.

You don’t whip your head around, unlike Bokuto and Atsu. You don’t have to turn around to know who is behind you. Rintarou Suna. Fuck, what is this timing?! You didn’t plan to see him today at all! What he is even doing there at this forsaken hour?!

Okay, so you saw him earlier on the bus, but that something you were internally ready to do. Now, you are not prepared to ask your questions, not when you are so emotionally drained by Atsu’s suicide attempt. 

You bite down on your lower lip. Hard. Super-super hard. It doesn’t calm your racing heart, but you spin around anyway, your hair flying in the air dramatically and you suddenly become painfully aware of the fox ears band on your head. It takes a conscious effort not to become red. 

Well, at the bare minimum, Suna appears to be embarrassed as hell for his remark, even if he is not exactly blushing as furiously you do. To be honest, you have trouble even noticing pink on his ears, but in the contrast, a hand covering his mouth as if he is trying to stop the words from spilling. 

Too late on that one, you suppose. His other hand, you notice, is grasping the pack of unopened fruit jelly sticks which in normal circumstances would make you smile. Yeah, not normal circumstances. 

“Oh!” Bokuto exclaims, totally oblivious to the tense atmosphere between the three of you, “I remember you!” then, he narrows his eyes dangerously, “You stopped my spike!” 

“Good to know, a person who I don’t remember ever meeting,” comes his dry answer, though something sounds not exactly right. His eyes for the moments rest on you before he hastily takes them away. His hand drops and he clears his throat awkwardly, “Well, nice meeting you there, but I left my iron on at my home. Sayonara.” 

He turns around, ignoring Bokuto’s shout of outrage. You can’t even react, rooted to the spot. As if the universe as a whole is against you, there also comes a soft ring indicating that your elevator has arrived. 

“Not so fast, Rin-kun!” Atsumu drawls on, placing his hand on the shoulder of Suna. He is standing with his back to you now, so you can’t exactly say what face he wears, but you are pretty damn sure there is a smug grin on his face, “Your home is probably already burned off and beyond saving already. Not like _something else_.” 

“Haha,” instead of laughing, Suna just says that in a voice completely devoid of any sort of amusement, “Well, have to attend my sister’s funeral then. What a shame, I always thought she would leave nice flowers on my grave. What sort of weeds would she like? Marihuana, maybe?” 

“Try hydrangeas,” Atsu proposes sharply, making you flinch. You feel the big eyes of Bokuto on you and see him bobbing his head as if in deep wonder. 

You don’t know what he tries to accomplish - or maybe you, and you just want to cover behind his back, let him take care of it like always. He - you take a deep breath, trying your best to calm down - he wants to make Suna apologize to you right, which should be fine. He tries to take care of you, to make you feel better, to fix things on your behalf. 

It is not fine. You wanted - you wanted for them to trust you. For that, you know what you should do, but that’s hard. That’s super hard. Taking the first step, plunging yourself into the abyss of the unknown. 

“What are hydrangeas?” Oreo Cookie asks and he will never know how much this stupid, stupid question helped you. You see him scrunching his nose and can’t help a giggle from escaping your mouth. He is so silly. So, so silly. 

The soft noise causes the three boys to turn to you, even Rintarou, though the moment you notice him staring, he makes sure to hastily avert his gaze. 

_That’s not right_ , you think, _That’s not right at all._

“Atsu-chan, Oreo Cookie, go ahead without me,” as the words roll out of your tongue, you take the headband off your head and move forward, encouraged by the stupidity of all things. You make sure to point your finger at Bokuto threateningly, “Make sure to not sleep without drying your hair, okay?” 

He answers you with a huge grin.

“To not dry drown!” he tilts his nose high in pride, making you laugh again. He is hard to dislike, you guess. Dalmatian Puppy indeed. 

With this taken care of, you bump the shoulder of Atsu, motioning to him with your free hand to come down so you can reach his head. He does so without question, his mouth curled into a thin line. Oho-oho, someone is not happy about something. What is his problem now? Too scared that Suna is a cannibal in disguise? Well, Shinsuke trusted him. Puffy said you were too quick in your judgment. You are going to talk, not battle to the death. 

“Osamu is waiting for you, you idiot,” you say simply, putting the headband on top of his head, “Don’t make him worry more, okay?” 

“W-wait, what about you, [Name]?” 

You ignore the question, looking at the boy in front of you. Suna, you notice, does everything in his power not to look at you, awkwardly standing still under Atsu’s arm. _That’s okay_ , you reassure yourself, _That’s okay, [Name]. Just be brave._

You grasp your fists, determined. 

And fail miserably to show that determination, of course. 

“S-Suna-san,” you curse your unsteady voice, and let out the huff of the air leave your mouth before continuing, a little bit more confident, “I have - I have something I want to talk about with you. Would you walk with me for a few minutes?” 

It’s a super cordial invite. So stiff and formal that you feel a frown forming on your face, but you are just glad you were able to say that much without dying or something along these lines. 

_Small steps, [Name], let you waddle the way across this lake slowly, but surely, just like a little rubber duckie._

“No,” Atsu denies you instantly, “Sunny, I’m going with you.” 

“You are not,” you roll your eyes, knowing this one time you are not letting him win, “This is my private stuff, TsuTsu, go back to your little bro before he comes to hurt you..”

“[Name] - “

“Okay,” Suna cuts in whatever Atsu wanted to say, making your heart explode. Your grasped hands unclasp and you let the relief sink in until you realize that he still refuses to meet your eyes, “If I die, make sure Oompa-Loompas don’t dance on my grave, demon number two.”

He says those words in such complete deadpan that all you want to do is to shrink up and die. Why, the hell, is he so hard to read?! You don’t know what you are supposed to feel now. Yes, he agreed to talk with you, but - but - but - the doubt sets in. 

What if Oikawa and Shinsuke were wrong? What if, after all, the right one were you? What if he never cared and was mocking you the entire time? What - what would you do in such a situation? 

“Oompa-Loompas don’t exist,” Bokuto informs Suna, and your-former-friend fakely gasp at that, “I know right?! I was disappointed too!” 

“Rin-kun, you are such a little bastard,” your blond friend ignore the very engaging story about the nonexistence of fictional characters and tightens the hold over Suna’s arms, “If I ever spy one hair out of the place, if you make her cry, then I swear - “ 

“Let him go, you dummy,” you shock yourself as the words roll from your tongue naturally, “We have people to kill, conversations to be had, and stuff like that. Nothing bad will ever happen to me. Not from Suna-san, that is.” 

You would want to believe that. You truly would.

You can’t, though, so you link your hands behind your back and force carefreeness you don’t feel on your face. You don’t like lying. You really don’t, but you hate being not trusted more and so, you are going for the aura of confidence you don’t feel. That doesn’t trick Atsu, but at least he releases Rintarou, so you don’t wait for anything and skip ahead, leaving the hotel you entered moments ago behind. You take a customary glance to make sure Rin is following you and he is, looking so grim you start to feel even more nervous. 

Okay, [Name], time for the awkward conversation has come.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed this mess of something that feels a lot like a simple filler, lol, but well. Once again, Rin just simply happens. This man does what he wants in this fanfiction, I swear. But to be honest, it also feels necessary, like a big step for MC. That she decided to ask first to talk to Rin. Proud of her, a little bit :3 

Oh, for those interested: In 1866 Liechtenstein send 80 soldiers to protect its borders against Austria and Italy during the Seven Weeks War. They returned with 81. Well, sources argue who that 81st person was, Italian or Prussian, lol, but yeah, casualties: - 1. 


	43. In which you may have cried (and your hug may be taken away, you can't have things like that in Detroit).

You sit on the very edge of the bench, tapping your fingers nervously against the wood. 

This time you can fight the urge to bit down on your nails, thank fuck, but it’s really, really hard to stray your hands away from your mouth. It takes one look at Suna to make your pathetic attempt dull. You tear them away from the bench and bring them to your lips faster than Spanish ships arrive when you utter the word _gold_. 

_That_ , a logical part of your mind reminds you it exists, _Is so fucking unhygienic. You are disgusting, girl._

Maybe that thought is what stops you from indulging in that bad habit. Or maybe it’s _Maybelline_. You just look at your nails and admire your fingers for the second, trying your best to focus on anything but the awkwardness you can sense between you two. 

Okay, so you got hard into that Rin is still your friend mentality, but now that the two of you are alone, it’s hard to feel that, and old good doubt returns to the simmering cauldron. You hope it’s not going to explode and cause World War III. You are not ready yet. 

The thought of your archnemesis hits you at once. 

It’s stupid, really, how you suddenly miss somebody you didn’t see for about a decade. He is probably a different person now, though you doubt he is not annoyingly bright and good at anything he does. 

He still lost to you, all those years ago, even if it was only in song contests. He is better at you in everything, but that - and well, back then, you knew shit about history and crime, but you could talk about the Ancient Times for hours. 

You feel a sigh threatening to slip through your lips and you try to hold it in. Your face probably looks super strange when you do that, but it’s not like Rin even gazes at you, even as he stupidly stands before you. 

You do your best to take care of your nails, just like you do your best to take care of yourself, but you never were even close to the immaculate way his fingers looked. Kageyama, you think, was very much near such perfection, but it still was not enough to compare to the boy who was eight years old at most in your memories. 

You feel a strand of your hair coming dangerously close to your lips and you know that the last thing you need is to choke on your own damn hair, so you reach to fix it, tugging it behind your ear. The notion is instinctive but causes you to stiffen for a second as you remember the way Suna tugged a hydrangea behind it. 

When was it, what, two nights ago? Yeah, it is something like that, but for you, it as well could be years. It certainly seems like it. The logical part of your mind knows that it was not so long ago, but your heart doesn’t hear the common sense, persistently claiming it is way too fucking long to argue with people so important to you. 

If you care, you want to apologize as fast as you want. A bitter thought, sure, a nice way to begin this mess, [Name], taking under consideration that Rintarou doesn’t seem fond of saying sorry even right now. Chtulhu knows how long you would have waited for him to take the initiative if you didn’t meet him on your way to the room. You will have to thank his gluttonous ass later. 

Or maybe you shouldn’t because it’s scary. Gods, you are so terrified. Your hand drops and you tap a rhythm against the wood. Or not wood. It could be human bones as far as you are concerned. Hell knows what Tokyo’s benches are made of.

It’s so scary. Not benches, you mean. Those benches are fascinating and you are going to take a piece of it with you somehow, but what makes you afraid, _what really makes you afraid_ , is something different altogether. Being the one to take the first step is scary. You don’t know what you are supposed to find, but you hope - _you hope -_

 _Caring_ , you suppose, _is the scariest._

You do your best to bring your courage forward, thinking about Atsu and how he is with you, if not in body, then in spirit. You are not alone. Even Osamu is with you, working at his mysterious apology. 

Rintarou still stands there, his hands in his pockets, as he looks at anything, but you. You fight back the flinch, crossing your legs linking your hands a top on them. Your lips break into an awkward smile. 

“Suna-san,” you utter softly, but he doesn’t react at all. A frown curls on your face, as you are not sure if he is even able to hear you with the wind blowing so hard tonight, and try a little bit louder, “S-sit next to me, p-please?”

You stutter, but, well, at least he heard you, you are sure of that because while he still doesn’t meet your gaze, he plops beside you. You direct your face at him, trying to discern any emotion on it. 

You are well much aware that Suna’s tendency to always hold his face in an emotionless poker (or a bitch) face will make it hard to read him. Still, you would like to think that if he is truly your friend, you know him even if just a little. 

For your untrained in _Suna-ness_ eyes, he looks just dead tired. Straight-up exhausted at your bullshit as he pockets the jelly sticks into his pockets, his second hand grasping something else. You hope it’s not a knife. Or a gun. Oh, Chtulhu, please, let it not be a gun.

You take a deep breath and straighten your back. Now or he will fucking shoot you, and Oompa-Loompas will dance on _your_ grave. 

“Suna-san -” 

“[Name] -“ 

You grimace again at the awkward attempt of the two idiots trying to say something at the same time. Suna, you observe with the corner of your eye, flinches, clutching whatever was in his pocket tighter. It’s a gun. It’s _so_ a gun. 

Wait, you are not in the USA, how did he get a gun?! 

“Sorry,” he says when you remain quiet, too focused on the awkward atmosphere to protest when he reaches for the gun inside of his pocket. Only it’s not a gun at all, but a pack of fucking cigarettes, “I think I will explode if I don’t.”

You think you would have preferred a gun. 

For a second, you are dumbfounded, just observing as he opens the pack and takes one cigarette out. He hides the pack back in his pocket and takes the lighter out and you see the fire flicker in the darkness of the night when he presses it. 

Perhaps you are something of an arsonist yourself because this is what makes you finally shake away shock and reach forward to grab his wrist before he can light it up. You didn’t even think you would be able to move so fast, but hell, there you fucking go.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hiss, indignation flaring up inside of you. This is another level of fucked up. The level of fucked up you don’t even want to reach, because, because, _because_! “Do you know how bad it is to smoke, Rin? You are _an athlete_.”

You don’t even start how you are in a no-smoking area, or how he is underage, or how it’s simply bad for normal people to smoke as well, though the thoughts race through your mind. There are simply too many things wrong with what Suna just tried to do before your very own eyes, but one of them is the most powerful. 

It’s bad for his health. It’s so bad for his health and you don’t want him to be hurt because of that. 

You grind your teeth, the sheer anger that flows your veins so potent you feel like you are the one who is about to explode. And what an explosion it would be. Emotions, you know, don’t have colors, and yet you are sure the anger inside of your belly is not red, but black. 

“You sound like my mom,” he answers dryly, ignoring your concerns entirely like a bitch he is, “Please, don’t sound like my mom, that will make things way too awkward.” 

Does he think you care at this moment? Your friend just slowly wants to develop a fucking cancer on his own and he thinks you _care about sounding like his mom_?! 

A huff leaves your lips as you pull his wrist violently towards yourself. That still doesn’t make him look at you and you feel yourself becoming angrier and angrier. You jam your fingers into his skin as hard as you can and a hiss escapes from his mouth. Finally, he turns towards you and his light eyes meet yours for the first time. 

You don’t understand what he is feeling, you don’t understand what he is thinking and he doesn’t even _try_ to help you, doesn’t try to talk the things with you, instead, choosing to smoke. 

He makes fun of you, again and again, and there is no way he thinks of you nearly as much as you think of him. So why are you still there? Why do you so desperately try? Puffy had to be wrong. Or maybe he was only leading you on from the start, nobody can know with him, which sucks because you thought that maybe there was something good about him, just a bit. 

Shinsuke had to be wrong. He, you are sure, would never mislead you, which means Suna had enough power to fake his personality before the lord Prime Minister himself. You hope that will not hurt him. Not as much as it hurts you because that’s the last thing somebody like him deserves. 

“After you hear me out, do whatever you fucking want. I will not sit around in smoke and choke on it with you,” are the words that leave your mouth, infected with rage and sorrow. 

You hate how you are about to sob. You hate crying. You hate that even being angry makes you want to cry. This was - this all was a bad idea. You just _wanted_ -

Fuck. You bite down on your lip. You just wanted a friend back. 

How can you have him back when he never existed? 

You let go of Rin’s wrist. He pulls it back slowly, his eyes glazing over the marks over your fingers with an emotion you have no hope to understand. Mostly because he will never tell you what he thinks. 

_Never_. 

You need answers. Straight answers and so, you straighten your back, making sure to hold his unreadable gaze steady, no matter how much you wish you could crumble into Atsu or Osamu’s embrace. 

“Was it fun?” you ask him. It’s a simple question. So fucking simple.

So why do you feel like your world is about to fall? 

Okay, maybe not your world. You will survive it. You did it before, you can do it once more, but back then there was no option that the person you thought was your friend didn’t mean that. What Puffy gave you was an empty promise, a hopeless wish, and you don’t know how to process that. Well, you still have Zizi’s number. You will do something. 

If you thought you would see a flash of remorse on his face, you were never more wrong. If you hoped for bafflement or something, anything, you were wrong as hell. He simply arches his eyebrow up, acting as if he doesn’t know what you are asking about. 

“There are not many things I find fun in this dull life,” he responds in deadpan, his fingers fidgeting with a cigarette. He glances at you and for a second, something is shimmering in those somber eyes of his, but you have no idea _what_. You can’t even begin to understand what his words or expression may mean.

He truly tells you nothing of substance. 

You pursue your lips and link your hands, not sure how to interpret that, probably just like he planned. It’s not exactly an answer, but you doubt you will get anything more from him if the way he impassively evaluates you tells you anything. 

Suna would make a good spy if he wasn’t so aggravating that his superiors would assassinate him in like, two days tops. 

Your brother, you are pretty sure, liked bullying you. _She_ enjoyed watching you bleeding on the floor, miserable and broken. Even Moon Tower, you are sure, took amusement in watching you stiffen under his gaze. 

Thinking about your brother reminds you of one conversation you had with Suna. You remember calling him _cool_ and thinking he had to be a good sibling, but maybe, every older is just the same piece of shit. You want to take all of those kind words back, gosh, you wish you could. 

But if Suna doesn’t have the same sadistic glee, then why would he do that? You remember him saying how everything but you was boring, so maybe this is what it was about. Satisfying his boredom. 

_Fuck. Does it even matter_? 

You grimace. It does. You _care_ about that, so it does matter. Don’t get into apathy. Don’t let it win. One step, [Name], and then another, and another, until you can leave with a clean conscience. You tried. God, you tried, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter. At the very least, you can look Puffy in the face and tell him how wrong he was. 

“So why?” you question softly, way too softly, your voice practically breaking. It sounds like you are on the verge of crying and fuck that, fuck that so hard. You can’t know if you don’t ask, don’t you? One of your nails, you sense, digs way too hard into your skin as you wait for the answers. 

“We no speak Americano,” he shrugs mindlessly, pocketing the cigarette back, “I’m an asshole at heart, I guess.” 

For a second, you only feel numb. The cold sensation becomes empty, before it blows up, like a Tsar Bomb, scattering over your emotions and leaving you so, so sad. 

“Yes,” you agree with that, feeling your chest becoming colder and colder as if you were in the middle of the winter, “Yes, you are.” 

No more questions. You heard enough. Cthulhu, you heard too much. There goes [Name]’s one big adventure on trying to be more independent! It fucking sucks and you want nothing more than go back to your friends, but one of your friends is still not back _and_ \- 

All of it happened because you wanted them to trust you more. It seems like you are a helpless little duckling they take you for if you can’t even talk to somebody without wanting to cry, and should just stay in your lane, in your room, back home. If you had a time machine, you would use it to go back in time and say _no_ to Shinsuke and never join this team. 

There is no time machine available for the public, though, of that you are sure. Changing the past will not fix your problem, which means you will have to stay like you are: holding your tears in desperately. _Crybaby_ , you call yourself, again and again, _Get a grip of yourself, [Name]._

A wave of self-loathing hits you. It’s more toxic than sulphuric acid, dripping through your skin, destroying everything in its way. The worst of it is remembering how you just wanted a normal year, without any drama and trouble. But then, Osamu and Atsumu offered you _more_. 

People are greedy, but sometimes, you think you are the greediest of them all. It was not enough, just being with them, and like the moron you are, you longed for more. You yearned for things you cannot have and don’t deserve. 

You brought your own doom. 

_Ironic, isn’t it?_

Everything would surely be better, have you never left your room. You can take a person out of darkness, but you cannot take the darkness out of a person. Fuck. You should have known better. 

Shinsuke said that he is not the kind of person to do something like that. It’s hard to think he could be wrong, but maybe he let his feelings cloud his judgment. Robo-Dad is just a dad, after all. Puffy, of all people, you should never trust to begin with, no matter how many snacks he bought for you. 

Why did you take their words seriously and made an idiot of yourself? You peer at Suna’s face, seeking - seeking something, you would even take a smirk on his face, to let this delusion of friendship go. 

His emotionless eyes meet yours and this time, you are the one to avert his gaze. Suddenly, your breath hitches and you find it’s hard for you to breathe, and everything is so, so blurry as your tears threaten to spill down on your cheeks. The dignity you didn’t know you possessed makes you reach for the corners of your eyes and wipe them before they can fall. 

You stand up and take several steps so the noirette will not see you breaking up. You don’t have a friend in him. That’s okay, that’s okay, [Name]. You knew it from the start. That was always an option. 

“Thank you for your time, Suna-san. I will no longer take up your time.” 

The words fall from your mouth easily. You surprise yourself by not stuttering, but it seems even somebody as worthless, as friendless as you, can sometimes behave somewhat slightly, just a tiny bit, admirable. 

You want to move and go back, but you cannot go back home and shut yourself in your apartment. Back to the hotel then. You will need to eat some matcha pocky sticks and drink hot cocoa. You are so going to climb under your covers. Then, and only then, you can cry all you want, safe and sound in the warm blankets. 

Yeah, that’s the plan. It’s a good plan. A solid plan. Get rekt, you stupid failure of the artist. Operation Barbarossa? Sea Lion? Pff. This is not how you win a war: high morale, superior tactics, and - and - and a lot of hot cocoa. You are an expert, you know what you are talking about. So yeah, you are going, bye-bye.

But. 

_But._

There is a tug on your hand, a much larger one grasping your wrist so delicately you didn’t feel it at all at first. Now, though, he pulls you just so slightly, and you have no idea he stops you when everything is said and done. 

Does he want to see your face as he breaks your heart again? That’s awful. Sadistic, even. Suna Rintarou is a sadist, people! Spread the word! He is into some freaky things. Your verdict: kinkshame him to death. He deserves that, motherfucking son of a bitch who plays with people’s hearts. 

“Wait, fuck, no, don’t go,” comes out the rushed whisper, voice strangely raw for the person you thought you have known and something burns in your chest, burns hotter than even your anger can, scarring your skin. 

_Hope._

Fuck it. 

You remember the proverb you read in one of the books: _Hope_ _is the mother of fools._ Isn’t it the truth? There you are, Date [Name], the naive fool who wanted to believe even when there was no evidence, just feelings of people who have no idea what you went through. 

Every decision you take is just so stupid. Not as stupid as jumping into fucking river, but that’s not any consolation. A twisted smile curls onto your face. No, it’s not any consolation in the slightest. 

“I don’t want to play your sick games anymore,” you inform him ever-so-courteously, not looking back at him, holding back the anger and the tears, “You made enough of a fool out of me. Let me go, Suna-san.”

He doesn’t let you go. Of course, he doesn’t. You are such a fool for even thinking that he would give you as much as grace. 

“Fuck off, Suna-san,” your tone is still polite, but you are on the verge, on the very brink. If he knew something, anything, he should listen to you. Guess what? 

He doesn’t listen to you. Of course, he doesn’t. _You know nothing, Jon Snow_ , comes passive-aggressive thought as he pulls your wrist once more, nearly making you trip over air. A growl resounds from your throat, but you refuse to look back, to gaze at his eyes and fall into his scheme again, and again. 

“Fuck,” he repeats when you refuse to turn to look at him. _See_ , you can be a little bitch too, fuck off now, “Fuck, [Name]-no, fuck it, Date-san,” you arch your eyebrow, pretty sure it’s the first time you hear him attach a suffix to anyone’s name, “I have no idea what you were talking about. I’m so damn stupid. Fuck, Osamu was right from the beginning.” 

He - he doesn’t know what you are talking about? No, no, no, [Name], it’s _a trap_ , General Ackbar knew it from the start. Fly, you fool, fly, he is lying, pretty little liar that he is, you cannot trust him at all. 

The feeling in your chest becomes even stronger and you curse it, feeling something as if you are sinking, deeper and deeper into the darkness you know very well. Hours, days, months spent there made you somewhat of a frequent visitor, even if you were pulled back to the light of the sun by Atsu and Osa’s hands. 

“Date-san, please, I’m - “ 

When you hear those words, it’s too late. One more time, you see a cauldron simmering with a potion. It was so dangerous, all those years ago, way before you were even born. The thing in you is nothing like that, not quite so deadly and devastating, but still lethal as it is tipped all over you. 

The first tear quietly sliders its way from your cheek and drops on your shirt. Then comes another. And another, another, another, _another_ \- 

How can a person have so many tears? You are going to become dehydrated at this point. And to think you did your best, you truly did, but there you are, crying for the second time on the same day. Wonderful. Lucifer, that apocalypse coming, or nah? 

You feel yourself breaking as you weep and weep, and Suna still refuses to let go of your hand. He is on a time limit, you know, as your thoughts become more erratic, more hysteric. You would want one right now, please. A sob you cannot hold in leaves through your mouth, leaving you a quivering mess. You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but he holds it steady, not letting go, so you have no choice but to cover your eyes with one hand only. 

“Stop fucking lying,” you scoff in tears, “Just fucking let me go and - I knew from the beginning! It was too fucking good, and I should have known better, and well, now I do! I know you are an asshole who was using me to not feel bored! Well, fuck off, I will not let - I will not - not again - “ 

You can’t even end the sentence, as another sob wrecks your entire body. You curl up, for the first time in what feels like years, cursing yourself for being so tall. Yeah, look at that, you want to be even smaller and it’s all his fault. What you wouldn’t give to disappear from his accursed eyes? What you wouldn’t give for that Armageddon right now? 

It doesn’t matter. Nothing of that happens and he continues to clutch your wrist no matter how hard you cry. 

You are a mess. You are such a mess. Your hair is sticking to your cheeks and you desperately need a handkerchief before your whole face is puffier than Puffy’s. Well, hell, where is Waka when you need him? Oh, look at you, leaning on something again, so pathetic, so pathetic, Date. 

The thoughts don’t stop. They keep coming, beating you down, no matter how much you try to take a deep breath and calm down. You cannot calm down, you just want to go back home, back to Amagasaki, back to your apartment, back to the twins, your _friends_ \- 

“I’m sorry, Date-san.” 

For you, these words shatter the world. 

Your hand drops to your side as everything disappears. There are no more destructive thoughts, no more self-pity, no more anything, just blank space as the air resounds with the thing you so desperately hoped for. 

An apology. An apology for _what_? What is he apologizing for? Why is he apologizing? You don’t know, you don’t even know if you care about that, because you thought, _you thought_! 

Your hand drops and you find yourself clutching it in a fist. You take a deep breath and spin around, facing Rintarou’s face again. Your eyes are trained on him, seeking for any sign of mockery or a lie. You don’t find anything like that and it’s not because you cannot discern anything from his face. 

There is a certain rawness to his expression, something unhinged and forlorn that stops you from lashing out with insults. 

“Fuck,” is the first thing that leaves his mouth when he sees your face. You flinch, “No, that’s not what I meant.” 

His tone is even more desperate and his cold fingers hold your wrist a bit tighter as his eyes drop. Your breath hitches. It’s the telltale mark of the bad liar, you know that very well. You refuse, _absolutely refuse_ to be manipulated any further. 

You're trying to shake his hold over you, but he is a stubborn bastard. A hiccup escapes from your mouth. You don’t know if that causes him to speak again, you don’t know if you believe him the way he for the blink of an eye makes him so vulnerable. 

“I’m sorry, Date-san, I - I never wanted to make you think I don’t care about you. Fuck, I’m such an asshole.” 

_Oh no, you want to believe him._ Bloody hell, please, don’t let anybody else be there. Don’t let anybody see you like, in shambles, crumbling with every gently uttered word. 

Because he is gentle, or he is trying to be gentle. That’s wrong and that’s so, so bad for you. You are soft, softer than a pillow at night and there is nothing to save you from his genuine words, from his sincerity. 

“I - fuck, emotions are hard, but I _do_ care about you,” he confesses, not showing any mercy on your poor soul. If you weren’t busy crying, you would probably blush at that. He looks around, something like panic flashing through his eyes before he stands up, still holding your wrist, “Please, please don’t cry, I have no idea what to do - fuck, hey, Miss Murder, pretty girl?” 

He said he was sorry, your mind reminds you not-so-helpfully. _He said so._

More hiccups escape your mouth as you find yourself having to look up to Suna’s eyes, their color still unknown to anybody but the biggest minds on this planet. He - he seems so awkward and honest that you find yourself stupidly wanting to believe him. To believe in him. 

The logical part of your brain screams that you can’t trust him, that he is lying, that you should just turn around and don’t look back, but you can’t. You care about him as well, damn your soft, black heart to hell. You hope it at least has a good time partying with Satan there without you. 

“You like me?” is what finally leaves your lips. The words are so unsure, so unsteady that you feel a wrinkle creasing your nose. Suna opens his mouth, a small gasp leaving it as he holds your gaze, “You didn’t want to make fun of me?” 

If you were in a better state of mind, then you would flinch at the pitiful way you sound. You are not, though, so there’s no bone feeling shame in your body. 

The noirette takes a step closer to you and finally lets your hand go, dropping it cautiously. His expression changes, though it does not return to that dead, blank face. Instead, his nose is scrunched in what you can only determine to be a determination. He slowly raises his hand, offering it to you, letting you choose if you want to hold it. 

“Fuck no, never,” his tone so decisive you can’t discern even a tad of hesitation in his words, and for the second, you think you could believe him in another world, maybe the one when _Kaiserreich_ happened or something, “Listen, Date-san, the thought of you being hurt pisses me enough to want to punch somebody. The fact I am the one who fucking hurt you makes that complicated, so feel free to punch me anytime. I deserve it.” 

Violence. Yes, violence and murder fix everything, that you know very well, but as you gaze at his earnest eyes the urge to hit him does not come. What you feel is strange, because, duh, violence is practically your middle name at this point, and yet, you don’t want to hit him. 

You are such a stupid softie, you should have known better. Then why? Why do you find yourself placing your hand on his, trying to trust, trying to have just simply a friend again, and again? 

Suna's light eyes, the ones you are still not able to call by their proper color, are glowing with sincerity. He promises you, with all of himself, with all of what he holds dear, to never, _never_ make you feel hurt again. 

That’s impossible, you know that. People will always hurt each other, by accidents, by misunderstandings, by that by their will. You call yourself an awful person, and you are one, but your whole kind is awful too. You will get hurt again. Logic dictates that he is lying, that he can’t hold that promise, that he is not your friend. 

And _yet._

You want to believe him. You want to trust him. You want his words to ring true. You want for them to not be laced with lies. You want to joke with him. You want to hear his lame attempts at teasing you. It is so, so stupid, but you even want to go to the vending machine with him again, to eat jelly sticks and hear him insult other people. 

“[Name],” you correct him, sniffing, “Friends call me by my first name.” 

Delicately, treating you as if you were made from the glass, he grasps your fingers. You snuffle, your tears still coming down and down, but that doesn’t matter, not when you see his lips quivering up, a genuine, soft smile on his face.

“You have an awful taste in men,” he teases you, though there is no bite in the remark. It stays gentle as he holds your hand as it was a precious treasure, not the dirty paw of a girl that just used it to wipe her eyes, “The absolute worst,” he sighs, his eyes falling to your linked hands, “I - I will try better, okay, pretty girl? I’m sorry for-for not stopping demons from doing stupid shit.” 

“I-It’s all my fault, they always do shit like that,” you stammer between hiccups that for sure are doing their hardest to kill you, “Just didn’t expect you to join, I think, and - well, I - I like to dramatize much, I guess, and overthink and - you like me, yes?” 

“I do,” he nods instantly, cutting in before you can even finish that sentence, his words mixing with yours. There have to some physical indication that you are still flabbergasted because he gathers his breath and starts slowly, “I like you way too fucking much, methinks, and wouldn’t mind - “ he stops in the middle of the sentence and sighs, “Fuck, [Name], I’m sorry, I’m bad at this friendship thing with you, but I don’t want you to even think anything that happened is your fault. It’s not and anybody who thinks otherwise may say that to my middle finger. Don’t blame yourself, pretty girl, never.” 

It’s too kind, way too kind words that you don’t deserve. You shake your head and sniff again, all while trying your best to not do that. As a professional crybaby, whose first reaction to anything is to cry, curse or threaten it, you know very well it’s hard to stop crying. It’s not fair in the slightest, because starting to cry is so, so much easier. 

As you continue to weep, the black-haired boy looks more and more uncomfortable, acting as if he is not sure how to react. That, out of everything, makes you smile. 

“D-don’t tell me your cousins never cried before you,” you stutter out, strangely joyful for the person who cannot stop crying. Suddenly, he looks super nervous at that, so you decide to be merciful, “Just-just do you have a tissue?” 

He hastily reaches over to take them out and give you one. It’s a little bit awkward, blowing your nose next to him, but it’s better than staying a sticky, slimy mess, so you do that, and before you can wipe your hands with that same dirty tissue, you are offered another.

So, yeah, you try your best to make yourself look like a human being, all while Rin says nothing, just looking at you as if he never saw anybody cry. If it’s true, you would want to meet his sister and cousins, because children that don’t cry every two seconds sounds impossible. 

To be honest, you don’t know how other people - children or adults alike - don’t end up just crying every two seconds. You know you totally would do that if you could go away with it without the title of a _crybaby_. Not like you don’t own it already, though. 

“Would it help if I,” he takes a deep breath, acting so nervous for the moment you have trouble thinking it’s the same Rin, the very same who stared down fucking Moon Tower, “If I hugged you?” 

The word feels strangely stilted in his mouth as if he is not sure about, well, something. The offer breaks your heart, again, but this time for completely different reasons. The offer is sweet, so sweet and yet, you know you cannot take it. 

“N-no, you will - your T-shirt will end up wet and I’m not going to use you as the tissue, no, no-” 

“I don’t care about it,” he replies instantly, his thumb caressing your fingers, “Can I?” 

You don’t have an answer for that. You wish you could give him one, that you could refuse once more, but you crave affection, your clingy ass wanting nothing more than to feel embraced and to embrace back, but - but - but it’s not Osamu or Atsumu, it’s Suna. 

You never hugged Rintarou before. The closest he was to you was when he caught you when Mademoiselle Net broke before you and the twins, and that happened so fast that you didn’t have the time to think about the proximity, too focused on the fact he did catch you. 

Hugs are different. You don’t think you hugged anybody but twins so far in your life. Okay, that’s a lie, you think you may have held your archnemesis in your arms once or twice, but that only because you were nervous, not that you wanted him to, not at all. 

Oh, and you hugged Puffy, but that was without your consent so that probably doesn’t count. Shouldn’t count. Does not count, because you say so. 

Suna - or rather Rin, you try to call him that again - he is different. Rin is your friend, your friend that you probably misunderstood, which, fuck, means that Puffy was right and you don’t want to think about that right now. You can already see him puffing his chest and demanding a date from you because of that. Hell, that’s going to be another problem altogether, but combining all of that, you have to admit, you can’t lie - you want a hug. 

You want to hug a friend. And he - he is your friend, right? He just called you one. So you do the reckless, stupid thing. You nod slowly, permitting him to, well, touch you even more. Wait, no, that sounds wrong even in your mind.

 _To hug you_. There, all better now. 

You thought he would take you into his arms instantly. That he would embrace you tightly and securely, just like Osamu and Atsumu do, but he does no such thing. Instead, he just comes closer slowly, still grasping your hand until it is the only thing standing between your chest and his. He throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you even closer.

Instinctively, you lean your forehead on his chest, suddenly so warm in this windy weather. There is a silence between the two of you and you swear you can hear his heartbeat against your body. 

Somehow, it is not an affectionate embrace you are used to sharing with your friends, with your hands all over their body and their warm breaths against your neck. No, you find out that hugging Rin is nothing like hugging Osamu or Atsumu. 

This hug between the two of you feels strangely tender, strangely fragile, and uncertain making you think of the taste of muffins he bought for you so long ago. It’s chocolatey and soft, and, and - _intimate_. Yeah. That was the word you looked for. 

You flutter and instantly try your best to hide your blushing expression from Rin. You doubt he will notice the redness on your already tear-stained cheeks but you can’t help to become a little bit flustered. You think you could count his eyelashes, so close you stand to him and that makes you painfully self-aware about the fact, that, well, you could probably find Rin pretty. 

In another universe, you mean! Not this one! You are not about to get a crush on a real person who can reject you! 

Gosh. It has to be Oreo’s fault. Yeah, he and his stupid, attractive muscles make you aware that Suna is well, an attractive _boy_ as well. Stupid hormones. 

“That’s the worst hug ever,” you tell him, trying to take your mind of _boys, boys, boys_ , “Not recommending, two out of ten.” 

“Damn, will try harder next time,” it strange, how you can sense his chest moving when he speaks. The notion makes you even more embarrassed, even as his tone suddenly becomes way too serious, “If there will be next time, that’s it, don’t feel in any way forced or indebted - if you don’t want to, then-” 

A soft giggle resounds in the air. Your soft giggle, to be more specific. Nervous. Nervous Suna Rintarou is such a strange concept to even imagine, and yet, there he is, stumbling through his words, acting just like you. Though you are not going to lie, it’s a lot cuter when he does that. 

You lift your head, looking up to see his face and you can’t help but notice that his cheeks are a little bit pink. Well, it seems not only you were a little bit touch-starved after all. Your lips twist into a small, shy smile. 

“Suna Rintarou,” you take your free hand, stand on your toes and reach over to boop his nose. He leans down, to let you do that, “Try better next time,” you giggle yet again, letting your eyes fall for the second, enjoying the camaraderie between the two of you, “Also, don’t smoke, I’m not joking, RinRin! It kills people.” 

“Bold of you to assume I don’t want to die anyway,” his answer comes out rushed and you open your eyes, fluttering your eyelashes only to find him taking away his arm and stepping away from you, taking all of that fragile feeling away, “I only smoke when I’m nervous anyway. Nothing to worry about.” 

Bastard. He is taking your hug away. At least he still holds your hand and you are not going to let him take away the only remaining source of warmth. You pursue your lips into the pout and maneuver your hand, interlacing your fingers with his.

“I feel nervous all the time and I don’t,” you say, an accusative edge to your words that makes his lips quiver a little. That instantly makes you much softer and you can hear that in the words that come out next, “Do better, RinRin.” 

“No,” he says with a mischievous smile, “Too much work, pretty girl. Hey, want a jelly stick?” 

“Don’t try to bribe me, Rin,” you giggle again, a prominent smile on your face as you swing your interlaced hands. It’s - it’s easy, strangely easy to end up in such banter with him, considering how you just cried moments ago, “I grew up with Osamu, pretty boy, I know all about bribery.” 

You are sure he will answer that you are way too easy to bribe, and you will start a small tug of war, but that’s not what happens. Again, Rin surprises you by bringing your intervened hands in the air and then lifting his shoulder, leading you into a twirl that is something straight out of the ballroom dance. A laugh leaves your mouth. 

You have no idea why he did it. It’s spontaneous. It’s totally out of the blue. At the same time, it’s simply lovely. A sudden urge to dance and sing leaves you breathless and you can’t help the hum escaping your lips. 

As if in the answer to your mirth, Rin spins you around again to your utter joy. 

“Are we dancing now?” you feel yourself bouncing on your legs, excitement seeping through your tone as you tease him, “But there is no rain, RinRin! How are we supposed to dance in the rain like that?” 

You are sure that your eyes are practically sparkling as you laugh again. It’s not even funny, but you can’t help that, the sudden happiness exploding in your chest rather than slowly blooming. A smirk appears on your friend - and how good it is to honestly think about that way, my friend, friend, friend - and twirls you the third time. 

This time you don’t end facing him, instead, your back is against your chest, his arm around you. You didn’t think you could be happier, but here you are, back in your precious hug. You lift your eyes, ready to tease him that this one embrace is better, but his twinkling eyes stop you. 

“Pretty boy, huh?” he asks you, his lips still turned up in a tantalizing smile, “We’re a deadly combo together then.” 

You pale for a second, and then feel your face reddens so much you are sure that even stains after tears will not save you now. Fuckity-fuck. That - that - you didn’t - what - it - it’s not fair, how quickly he makes you go from sadness to joy and then to utter shame. 

“Well, I guess so?” you laugh awkwardly, now feeling way too self-conscious about the term. You nervously tap your leg against the ground, as you stammer out, “We need to play the Call of Duty or I don’t know, Counter-Strike? But I’m awful at first-person shooters.” 

“Then what do you like to play?” 

“U-ugh, strategies I guess.”

“Cool. How about you teach me then?”

“Sure,” you agree, before squinting your eyes and bringing your free hand to your lips, “There is that very old game I used to play with Atsumu and Osamu, but it’s so good. The Heroes of Might and Magic III. They say the fifth one is good as well, but I prefer the third. The third is the best,” you ramble on, “So, you play as the faction and your quest is to, well, defeat other factions. You have a castle and there you can recruit devils, and skeleton dragons, and unicorns. You can also use magic, and remember to always take Air or Earth because without it you can’t - “ you blush again, stopping in the middle of the sentence, “It’s really, really fun.” 

“Sounds good to me,” he nods, when you look at him expectantly. To be honest, you didn’t expect him to say that, so you send him another awkward smile, “How about I give you my hoodie?” 

“Huh?”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion, the sudden change of the topic baffling you. He squeezes your hand, before once more taking your hug away. You take a few steps away from him before you turn to look at the noirette. 

He unzips his jacket and takes it off. You blink with confusion as his hand presents it before you. 

“You didn’t want it last time, so I thought it’s better to ask,” he explains plainly, “You are shivering so much I feel like we are in Syberia, and the last time I checked, we were in Japan. Hope we still are.” 

“Don’t worry, I know Russian if we aren’t!” you try to cheer him up, before you frown yourself, “Worse if we meet people only speaking Chukchi or Koryak. I don’t know anything about those languages.” 

“You know Russian, though,” he interjects dryly, “And there is me, a mere mortal having a problem with simple English. You are probably the best person to get stranded abroad with.” 

Russian and English are not the only languages you know, but you don’t think saying it aloud will help his self-esteem. 

“I’m the worst,” you shake your head and then look at his hand, still offering you his jacket. You don’t know why, but it feels so much more than a simple offer of sharing clothes. You tap your shoe against the ground, unsure, as you continue, “I would probably become super tired in like five minutes and start complaining until someone gave me a piggy ride. Just ask Atsumu or Osamu.” 

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he rubs his neck, the corners of his ears becoming pink, “Carrying you, I mean.” 

_Oh._

He raises his chin, looking so damn cocky you feel yourself blushing against your will. That-that has to be Rin’s superpower. Nobody should be able to make others flustered with only four words! Your bounce on the balls of your feet, nervously, turning your head awkwardly away from his face.

Your eyes end up on his hand again, the black hoodie still waiting for you. _How long will the offer stay there?_ you wonder, _How long will he wait for me?_

“And just you know, I’m honest there, pretty girl,” he says ruthlessly, fixing his shirt that was dragged a bit up with his offhand hand, “This is the only way for you to feel tall, after all.”

He then nearly bends himself, trying to position himself at your height. You snort dismissively at the insult, knowing damn well that he will never be able to meet the lowest depths of hell you exist on. Suna cracks up a smile at you anyway and you can’t help, but beam at him in return. 

You like him. You like him very much, but there is doubt, creeping on the edge of your mind and you find yourself biting your cheek. You know what you need. No apologies, no confessions, you need _more and more_. 

Always more. 

You are desperate for validation and until then, you can’t accept the offer to take his hoodie for yourself, can’t accept this kindness. You can’t see him sacrificing his own comfort, his health not knowing what he wants in exchange. 

Friends don’t want anything. They simply care. 

So, you take a deep breath. 

“Rin,” you begin, fidgeting with the collar of your top, “Are - are we friends then?” 

The smile disappears from the black-haired’s face and he straightens his back. For a second, Rin is unreadable again, as he observes you. You feel as if he is looking straight at your soul, his eyes sliding through your whole silhouette.

“If you want to be, then sure,” he finally says and you pout, because this is not an answer you needed. 

“But do you want to be my friend?” you insist stubbornly, “You, Suna Rintarou. Not me.” 

“Yeah,” he tells you, his voice strangely strained. You narrow your eyes, smelling a liar and he hastily puts his hand in the air, stopping you from lashing out, “I want to - I never want to hurt you again, so I’m going to try, no matter how exhausting the demons can be. I will punch them one day.” 

Okay, so the first word was strangely intoned, but the rest sounds honest enough for you. He didn’t exactly hesitate while stating them, more like, hm. It’s more like he is nervous, which honestly baffles you. You didn’t think he would be a person having trouble with affection. But you don’t really know him as much as you do twins. 

Not yet. 

You raise your hand and take the hoodie from his hand. You put it on slowly, and well. Just like with the hug, wearing Rin’s clothes is different than wearing the twins’ clothes. He is not much bigger than them, but that means nothing to you - his hoodie is way too big on you. You could use it as a dress.

There is still that comfy, cozy burning around you as it embraces you. Friendship, you think, this is how friendship feels like. You smile softly to yourself. 

“No, don’t you dare,” the threat rings empty as your words are fond and gentle. You shake your head lightly and reach to zip yourself way up to the neck, “Only I can hit them. It’s my childhood friend's privilege.” 

“I will call _you_ to punch them.”

“Better!” 

You reach over to the hood and put it over your head, still smiling. Rin seems transfixed at something for the minute and you stick your tongue out, trying to catch his attention. That awakens him from whatever daze he was in.

He sighs in a long-suffering manner. 

“So fucking cute.”

“Rin!” you shout, blush forming on your cheeks, “Stop it, I’m not cute.”

“I can promise you I will never stop,” he tells you and you jokingly hit him with your too long, empty sleeve. He chuckles before gesturing in the direction of the hotel. Or at least, what you think is the direction of the hotel, “Let’s go back before Oomi-sensei gets sober, pretty girl.”

* * *

Is the misunderstanding at the beginning annoying? I thought it is something super important to both MC, Rin, and the development of their relationship, so I hope not. Is the twirling thing stupid? I thought it was cute, but it may sound super stupid. Did I tell you I love you today? No? Well, I love you. Thank you for reading, seriously. I appreciate all of the support so much and I have no idea how to say that. Yay for socially awkward people.

 _The Heroes of Might and Magic_ is the game MC mentioned before. Not really important, but yeah, it didn't come out of the blue. She was making Atsumu and Osamu play it with her in childhood. And yeah, it's the real game and it may be a game from my childhood, and yes, it does have unicorns.

 _Kaiserreich_ is the alternative history in which the German Empire won the First World War. It's a super interesting timeline created as the mod for _Hearts of Iron 2, The Darkest Hour,_ and _Hearts of Iron 4._


	44. In which there are dinosaurs in your hot chocolate (and everything returns to the way it is supposed to be, maybe).

You stir, something catching the attention of your hazy mind. The dream, the one you are not going to remember if you open your eyes, is around the corners, still ready to take you into its cozy embrace. It’s tempting to let it take you back, into the confines of warmth and comfort. 

_But_ , you argue with yourself, _Somebody is calling my name. Somebody needs me. I need to wake up._

That thought dazes your consciousness and you feel your hands pushing you up in the air. You bring yourself up, clumsily sitting down on the mattress. For a second, you feel like you are back on the rollercoaster since your silhouette stammers a little, swinging from right to the left. You can’t get hold of the steadying yourself, not until there is no hand clutching your shoulder and rescuing you from falling face down. 

“[Name]?” 

It’s your name, you know it, and yet, somehow it sounds different. Like it belongs to someone else, someone braver, someone stronger, someone prettier. Not someone smarter though, because you are pretty damn smart. As dizzy as you are, you can still recall the Thirty Year War with vivid detail, explain the process of photosynthesis and tell everybody why cadaver dogs are the goodest boys. 

So yeah, not smarter. 

Still, your name is whispered with such love and devotion, you can’t help raising your eyes to where you think the sound is coming from. You yawn, still half-asleep, and rub your eyes, forcing them to open. Your vision is still blurry and it’s dark, so as far as you are concerned, the person holding your arm is a big, grey blur. 

Cool. 

“Rin said you looked dead tired last night,” the blur informs you gently, coming closer and closer, the second hand coming to your free shoulder. It pats you gently, making sure you are correctly balanced, “How do you feel?”

You don’t really feel at the moment, so you just nod absentmindedly. Rin didn’t say anything of that sort, you think, only remembering him telling you to not let the bedbugs bite. You frown a little and the greyish blur seems to come to the decision you are fine on your own, as his hands disappear.

You wiggle a little, trying to find a more stable position, but you are like the Holy Roman Empire during Interregnum. And well, nothing stays stable during Interregnum, much less the HRE. 

“RinRin?” you ask, just to make sure you and Blur are on the same page. You don’t get a clear answer, though, as your friendly, neighboring Blur decides to reach over to the nightstand and place something in your palms. You bring it closer to your face, the heat of this little thing bringing you reassurance. 

You hum and cast your eyes down to look at. Slowly, you tilt your head at what you see. 

_White dinosaurs?_

“Yeah,” comes the affirmative and you feel your bed go plop-plop, as Blur sits beside you, “He called me last night. Said you made up and that I was right.”

You lean down, still fascinated with the white, fluffy dinosaur swimming in what seems to appear to be a lake made of chocolate. That’s nice, you would like to swim in a chocolate lake as well. Your palms clutch around the thing you were given - oh, it’s a cup. You are holding a warm cup with a white, swimming dinosaur in your hands. 

“That’s a dinosaur,” your nose crinkles in confusion as you continue to examine the cup, “Is he living in the cup? Does he have a name? Can I name him?” 

“If you want to, I don’t see why not,” the snuggly voice of Blur answers tenderly, “Are you hungry?”

A hand comes to your hand, gently stroking your hair. You lean into the touch, though you are still very much focused on the white dinosaur. You think you are going to name him Eustache. Eustace von Dinocaesarus. 

“Me always hungry,” you nod, bringing the cup to your lips. Since the hot liquid is insanely sweet in your throat, you giggle, feeling happy and safe, “Didn’t eat dinner anything, you know. Very much hungry.” 

“I made your breakfast if you want to?” 

“Made me breakfast,” you repeat after it, nodding a little before you find yourself scrunching your nose, “Made me breakfast just like Osa-chan.” 

Your eyes widen when the thought hits you. Osamu, your best friend, the only person with whom you didn’t reconcile yet. Ironically, also the only person who would wake up on the unholy hour to offer you hot chocolate with funnily shaped marshmallows. You shift your gaze, going from the cup to Grey Blur. 

The regret washes through you instantly, just as you come face to face with Osamu _fucking_ Miya. Your hand trembles and the little marshmallow in the shape of a dinosaur nearly drowns in the hot chocolate. 

To put it mildly-

“What the actual fuckity fuck.” 

Humans, you are pretty damn sure, shouldn’t stand up before eleven and yet, there was, though he definitely looks worse to wear. Your heart stops beating for a hot second, your eyes trained onto him, greedily taking everything of him in. You are not mentally ready for this meeting at all, and yet, you are so, so happy he is there. 

You missed him, of course, you wanted him back, but-but-but-but- it’s too early! You are not ready for the confrontation! You just woke up. 

Instantly, you bring your eyes down and hide your nose into your cup, taking a big swing of the chocolate. It’s still very much sweet, but now that you know that he is the one who made it, there is the edge of spiciness in flavor you didn’t feel before. 

_Okay_ , you think as you turn on your brain, _Atsu-chan has said something about Osamu being the next to apologize, but I didn’t think it would happen so fast. I just got from making up with Mr. Pretty Girl and it was hard to focus on anything with him teasing me the whole way back to the hotel!_

It’s stupid to think that you didn’t mind his light teasing at all, isn’t it? Nobody will ever find you admitting this fact to Rin, that’s for sure. Cthulhu knows that he was having too much fun with the fact you called him _pretty_. Well, if he doesn’t want to be named a pretty boy, he should stop being _pretty_. It’s his fault, really, not yours, no matter what the blush on your face may have claimed. 

You wince, bringing your cup down and gazing at the younger of the Miya twins. And yeah, you still notice that Osamu looks like hell. 

You should be the last person to call somebody out on their appearance in the morning, with the way you just threw your clothes on the floor, put on the first T-Shirt you saw, and dropped dead onto a way too soft and opulent bed. You were out faster than you could even think about something like brushing your teeth or braiding your hair for the night. This means your breath has to be stinky. 

You don’t even remember how the hell you ended up finding your room. Rin must be the one who somehow knew just where to leave you, and, magically, your luggage was here too. In your defense, the day was really, really tiring and you spent like, half on it on the bus. 

So, yeah, your hair is absolutely everywhere, the madness of your bed hair unleashed all for Osamu to see. It’s not like he didn’t see it before, of course, but it’s still embarrassing to think he watches you in such an unhinged state. You are also pretty sure you drooled in the night. 

Still, dear Caesar Almighty, he looks even worse than you. Seeing him like that breaks your heart, just a little, and you wish you could just hug him, promising that everything will be alright. You don’t do that. Your hands clutch to the cup even tighter as you avoid his gaze. 

“Hi, [Name],” he says, his face impassive, but you notice how his eyes instantly move away from you and you can’t help but think that you hurt him. 

Gods, he is so, so pale, you hate it. His complexion is so unhealthy and you don’t want to start on his hair, messy. His bangs are not even flipped to the left side and they are always flipped like that! If that doesn’t say how bad he looks, then how about those eyebags of the size of the fucking megalodon? Or the sluggish way he moves as he tries to crawl to you closer-

A sudden desire, no, not a desire - a sudden need goes through your body. That compulsion is so overwhelming it’s hard to breathe as everything in you demands to take him into your embrace. You want to hug him, you want to stroke his hair, and you want to fight off anybody who dares to think about hurting your friend.

Fighting off this urge is nearly painful to you, but you do your best, crossing your arms awkwardly and pursuing your lips into a vicious pout. Osamu’s eyes, those deep amber orbs that were with you since childhood - wait, no, that sounds as if you gouged his eyes and held them in the jar next to your bed. That is not what you meant. Never would you do something to your precious, precious friend! Others are fair game, though. 

The thing is, the silverette’s eyes make you uncomfortable. Under his gaze, you feel very much naked. And that’s stupid because this is not the first time he sees you in your pajama and it is not the first time he sees you half-asleep. For fuck’s sake, this man had literally slept with you, shared his spoon with you, and watched as you embarrassingly swallowed pen cap. You shouldn’t feel this way.

“I’m not there,” you inform him, looking around and placing the cup on the nightstand. You raise your hands then, scrambling way too close to the wall that is necessary, trying to hide, “I’m not there-I’m not-no-no-no-”

“[Name],” he cuts in, silencing you way too efficiently as his calm eyes are trained on you, “I love you.” 

Your lip trembles. 

All of your words leave you when you are met with one, indisputable truth of your life. Osamu wouldn’t lie about his feelings _to you_. If he says those three words, then it means he still adores you. The bond between the two of you, the friendship that sparked from the first time you talked, didn’t end because of one disagreement. 

You clutch your fist against the wall and look back at him, still not being able to recount the words to say back. You really shouldn’t be so speechless. You have grown up with him and Atsumu. You know them both well enough to be used to the bullshit they pull, and yet, here he is, in front of you, stealing your breath away with three words alone. 

You don’t expect him to stretch his hands towards you, cupping your cheeks even as he comes closer and closer. His eyes, those amber orbs you adore, look straight into your [color] eyes. If that was somebody else, you would pull away already.

But it’s Osamu, your Osamu. The same one who brought you stolen flowers with a toothy smile. The same one who helped you put the Christmas Tree on fire when you were angry at your parents. The same one who watched with you all the documentaries you wanted, never complaining. The same one who swore to become ninjas with you. The same who cried when Ms. Shouko told him you got sick from eating his badly cooked rice. 

How can you step away from him? You want nothing more but to stay with him and Atsumu forever. You want nothing more but for them to be happy. 

_(You know those two desires can never be achieved simultaneously.)_

“I’m so tired,” he tells you, sounding like a soldier that just wants to come home. You can feel his breath on your face, and it’s so uneven, so erratic, so unhealthy. He is so nervous, even if his face shows only affection. He continues to gaze at you and you can’t bring yourself to look away, “Not seeing your smile, not hearing your voice, not being able to touch you. All of it is hell, [Name], and I don’t think I can live without my best friend any second longer.” 

He is still not lying, which makes this whole thing harder and harder for you. 

You think about how much you thought about wanting to see Osamu and Atsumu, about how you wanted them back, about how you needed them. You think about how sad, how pitiful he looks, and yet - You think about those damn flowers. Are you petty, to hold them accountable for something so small? 

_No, [Name], it’s not flowers_ , you remind yourself, _It’s what they represent._

“It was only one day,” you quietly say even as you want to scream in his face, how it was his fault, how he was the one with Atsumu to burn a very special gift for you. 

“Far too long,” he instantly disagrees, his forehead lightly touching yours, “[Name],” he whispers your name with love and devotion. In his mouth, it doesn’t sound like it belongs to you, but someone much better, much prettier, much stronger, “I’m sorry about making you feel like I don’t trust you.”

Your breath hitches.

_There it is._

You twist your lips into a gentle smile. The sheer mirth you feel causes your eyes to close, as you say, “That’s okay, Osa-chan, we can work this one out. You never disappointed me, you know, but it-” 

“[Name],” he interjects and you stop, confused, as you open your eyes. His features twist and you see a determination hiding between his brown, “I’m sorry that you ended up hurt. I’m sorry that you cried because of me. I’m sorry that we left you alone.”

He pauses at that, taking a deep breath, leaning into you even more. Now, you stand just forehead to forehead, your noses nearly touching. You stay for a moment like that, as he brings himself to take a step backward before he places a soft kiss upon your eyelids. Your eyes are half-closed as he does that and maybe this is why you don’t know if the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes is something you imagine or not. 

“I’m sorry I was not able to protect you, _again_.” 

Guilt, regret, self-hatred. There are so many emotions emanating from him and you can’t help but remember another time, another you, another him, standing just like that as you pleaded and pleaded until your unused voice couldn’t say a word anymore. 

You wonder for a moment, what he sees when he looks at you. Is he able to discern current you, the one trying her hardest, from the girl you were a year ago, the one who locked herself in the apartment and didn’t want to leave?

Will he ever see that you are better? That what happened wasn’t his or his twin’s fault? That the people to blame are the ones that did it to you - 

_(Names. You know their names better than you know the one belonging to you. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night and remember all of them, all faces and names._

_But there’s no Osamu Miya among them. There never will be, because you never, ever blamed him.)_

“Osa-cha, it’s - it’s not like that,” you begin slowly, reaching over to his face and cupping his cheeks as just like he did to yours. How can you say it in the way he will finally understand? How can you defeat those walls around his heart? You know five languages, and yet, there is no one word you can utter to make him better and that hurts, hurts you so much as you go through his words again, and again - 

The realization hits you. Suddenly, your heart is set aflame, as you are no longer in the hotel lobby, with your best friend, but at the witch’s execution and you are the one who is burning on the stake. 

“You are not sorry,” you murmur in wide wonder, dropping your hands, “Not for burning them. You are not apologizing for that at all, Osamu.”

He flinches as the name rolls out of your tongue, but you don’t care, too much focused on the audacity _of this bitch_. What-what-what-no, fuck it, how he is in your room anyway?! How did he get in?! 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Osamu?” you question, your tone seething with anger, “You come to apologize to me, but you are not sorry for your actions?! And how the fuck you are in my room?! What the fuck is this shit, _Twilight_?!” 

The words echo through the space between the two of you. He furrows his brows, his hand coming to rest - or rather, coming to clutch doors desperately, hoping to stall you. You scoff, the indignation sparkling in your chest, and challengingly gaze at him, daring him to try to find the answer to your questions, rather than escaping into sweet nothings. 

Your fingers curl, shaping into fists and you feel your nails cutting into your skin. You grit your teeth, looking at him fiercely. Osamu lets you go, sensing the anger you feel. He nods shortly and he raises his hand, begging you to stop, to listen, to let him explain and as the absolute fool you are, you let him. 

“You left your doors unlocked, [Name],” he explains calmly, “I knocked several times and when you didn’t answer, I thought that something-well, that something happened to you. I’m sorry for that too.” 

That-that-that doesn’t sound like you at all! You know all about the dangers of letting your doors open, for fuck’s sake, it’s nearly inviting the serial killer to come and attack you. You totally did lock your doors, totally-

Only you remember just ripping off your clothes and going to sleep after talking with Rin. Nothing else. 

“Okay,” you bite down on your lip, “Sorry for-for-for, I don’t know why I even got so angry, I just- I’m sorry for that, Osa-chan, but that doesn’t change the fact you are not apologizing for burning the flowers I got as a present from Tobio.” 

There is anger in those amber orbs of his. Not for you, never for you, but for the people of the past, for your parents, for your brother, and, most importantly, you come to realize, for Kageyama Tobio. 

“I never fucking want to see you sad, [Name],” he at least says, copying the nervous habit of Atsumu as he rubs the back of his neck, “If burning flowers from the person who caused you not to move your neck for several days will keep you safe, then this is what I will choose to do, every time.”

“Do you even think it’s not what I want, though?” you scoff back smoothly, poking your finger straight into his chest, “Even if Tobio hurt me, he didn’t do that on purpose, you moron. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.” 

“That doesn’t matter to me at all. What matters is that you were hurt and that’s something I’m not going to ever forgive,” is what he says, insufferably. He sighs as your gaze doesn’t soften at all, “Darling, I know it’s not right, but I can’t change that. You are the most important person in my life.” 

“What about Atsu-chan?” you snort, “He would cry if he heard about that.” 

“He would tell you the same, marshmallow,” Osamu replies, his tone for the moment returning to that careless deadpan of his, “And then would ask who is the most important for you and try to make you choose him when all of us know that _I’m your best friend_.” 

“Both of you are nothing against my true love, Kakashi Hatake,” you wrinkle your nose and step backward, pulling yourself further away from him as your mind reminds you that this is not what you wanted, not like that, that doesn’t change anything, “I-I-I, fuck, Sam-chan, I need to take a shower. And you need one too.” 

“Are you saying I’m ugly?” 

“I’m saying you can be prettier,” you roll your eyes as you poke his eyelid, “When do we have breakfast anyway?” 

“Ten. It’s about eight now,” he responds lazily, shuffling around the items on the table that, well, it doesn’t really belong to you. It belongs to the hotel and the room you are in, “Go ahead, I will wait for you.” 

You finally notice the cosmetics bag you wanted so much. You click your lips and take it out. As you stand up, kicking up the towel you brought from home, your eyes automatically go towards Osamu. 

He still looks like shit.

“Take a nap or something, will ya?” you wrinkle your nose, “Why the fuck didn’t you go to sleep today anyway? Atsu was super mysterious about that, for some reason.”

He yawns profoundly, only proving your point right. You snicker and very much ignore the basket. You notice him fidget it, even as your curiosity is peeking. Okay, it’s not really peeking. It’s demanding for you to question the contests, but Osamu raises his hand, very pointedly avoiding the subject.

“Tell you later, marshmallow.” 

_Okay, demon_ , you think, clutching your things to your chest, _Don’t think you are getting out of this conversation, though._

* * *

It takes you a few journeys to the bathroom to take all the things you need. Not counting your cosmetics bag, you have to take things like clothes - and yeah, deciding on what to wear is another complicated problem - and cosmetics that you ended up traveling out of your bag. You are lucky as hell none of them opened during the journey. 

_Seriously, [Name], where is your head at?_ you think as you place your hands on your cheeks, pressing onto them, _Do better, you dummy, damn it. Ending with all of your clothes wet from shampoo is like the stupidest thing ever. Can’t let it happen again!_

You still insult yourself as you decide against having a bath, preferring a hot running shower instead. So you start a song from your phone and walk it - but you don’t do so in clothes, you are not _that_ stupid. 

That doesn’t mean you are not dumb at all, because you start to sing along to the songs coming from your phone. You don’t care that Osa can probably hear as the hot, hot water gets rid of all the sweat and worries of yesterday. 

Not of the worries of today, though. 

You stop your song, your mind racing as you try to remember Atsu’s words. You can’t remember what exactly he said, but - but - but - Yeah, you are just so dumb. He didn’t apologize for burning your flowers too. He only was sorry for hurting you. 

You hate it. 

You hate it so much you feel your hand touching the cabin, grasping and trying to break it, even as the logical part of your head knows you don’t have enough strength for something like that. 

_This is not what I wanted_ , you think bitterly as you leave the shower, tugging yourself in the towel, _This is not what I wanted at all. I want them to be happy._

They can’t be happy. Not with you weighing you down and so far those apologies of them only mean they care more. Your anger, your hurt, everything you do, is simply a burden for them, even if they don’t see it. If it continues like that, they will never be free from the chains you put on them. 

You sigh, looking into the mirror. You bring your hands to the sink, the music still playing around you. Suddenly, you wish you could just disappear. You don’t want to die, not truly, but you wish to evaporate, never exist, just so their lives would be better. 

The steam rises from the mirror and you finally see yourself. 

You don’t like what you see. 

“Whore,” the word escapes your mouth and you see your mirror self flinching in pain. A smile rises through your lips and you repeat the sentence haunting you in the nightmares, “You are just pathetic, little whore, Date.” 

You hate how scared those words make you look. 

You sigh loudly, before spinning around and reaching towards your cosmetic bag. With a headband on the wet hair, you start your face routine. Tonic, gel, face mask, and then cream. With that out of the way, you brush your teeth thoroughly. You probably enjoy the feeling of mint on your teeth way too much that is necessarily healthy.

You have no idea how Osamu could bring himself to be so close to you when you didn’t clean your teeth. Chtulhu, this guy loves you way too much. Having them clean and not smelling is practically a gift from the Lord. 

After that, it’s time to dry your hair with the luxurious dryer supplied to you by the hotel. Brushing your hair, you hum contentedly, swinging your legs, because somebody decided that your fucking bathroom needs a fucking couch too. 

Yes, all of it is pretty much boring. It’s way too boring, but to be honest you need that. Yesterday was way too emotional and long for a single day, and now, the ordinary things make you way too happy. Even your previous, well, little tantrum with a mirror is put out of the mind as you sing along to the songs again. In this stupid, extravagant bathroom, you can breathe easily, even as the conversation with Osamu looms after you. 

You just pamper yourself. Sometimes, you need things like that. It’s not wrong to enjoy life, right? It’s not?

You think Shinsuke would agree it’s not. That’s good enough for you, right now. 

You laze around longer, knowing that Osamu will not mind and you, well. You need a little bit of time to ready yourself for the harsh conversation that is coming, oh baby, it’s definitely coming. You are not going to escape it. You have to live through strife and conflict once more. 

You crinkle your nose and start to put on your clothes. The underwear comes first, of course, and after it, you put on socks with little ribbons. You are not going full goth this time, though you don’t plan to wear Osamu or Atsumu clothes as well. Instead of that, you take on a striped shirt and white dungarees with clips in the shape of bunnies. 

You may or may not do that way too quickly, challenging lighting to the race as you really, really don’t want to peak at the splot of botched skin that works as the side of your tummy. You don’t need to, not truly. You can still feel pulsating with pain when you poke it. You really shouldn’t poke it. 

So, yeah, you poke it one last time, wincing as you open the room back to your room. 

You try to whistle and fail miserably as the only thing coming out of your mouth is a pathetic huff of air. Dejected, you look around and pause in the middle of your step, nearly tripping as you are left stunned. 

On the table rests what can only be called a feast. 

“You look adorable,” is the first thing you hear coming from Osamu. You blink at him, knowing OsaOsa is way too biased to even be honest about things like your appearance. Though, you suppose, you are a lot cuter in your current get-up - wait, wait, wait! 

That’s not important! What - why - how - is that how soldiers felt when they saw a bear _bearing_ the ammunition during the Battle of Monte Cassino?! 

You should be totally executed for that pun. Straight-up, without any trial and chance for defense. Your Honor, please, just hang this defendant, she is guilty, guilty, _guilty_. You cringe internally, while Osamu is ignorant to your thought, the lucky bastard he is. You see him idly playing with his fingers, his amber-like eyes trained on you. 

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” 

Do you want him to? Maybe. Is that important? _No_. Is he really going to ignore the literal mountain of food on the table? You are not about to let him. 

“SamSam,” you start calmly, even as you are pretty much befuddled. You point to the table with your finger, continuing, “What is this? Did you raid the kitchen when I was gone? Did you call for service or something? Or-or, or, tell me - what is with all of this food, pretty, pretty please?” 

“It’s for you,” he informs you simply, rubbing the back of his neck, “I told you I made breakfast earlier.”

That he did, but sue you for not remembering something like that with him just in front of you. Words so sweet should not hurt so much. Are you in Bon Jovi’s song? Because you feel a bullet going straight through your chest as he says that. _Shot through the heart and you are to blame, indeed._

You twist your lips, not sure how to react to that. Sam cooked for you since you lived on your own. He never let your finger ever touch anything in the kitchen, citing that accident with the oven as the evidence that you are not capable of cooking for yourself. 

It’s not like you were going to complain about that. Osamu’s food is to die for and you are cheap, forgiving him everything just to taste his onigiri again. 

“This is why I wasn’t sleeping,” he says sheepishly, looking strangely bashful as he rubs the back of his neck again, “I rented the kitchen in the city and well, spend the night making breakfast,” there is a slight pause as you look at him wide-eyed and you swear his cheeks are pink as he continues, “I also did lunch, and dinner, and well, bento for you. Hope you don’t mind.” 

Your anger evaporates and you hate that, how easily can he bring you from fuming fury to-to-to, well, that bittersweet feeling of defeat. You never stood a chance against him, not truly. He knows you too well. 

You fidget, unsure how to respond and the silver-haired twin sees that, of course, he does. He quickly takes your hand and leads you straight to the couch, letting you admire everything he did closely. 

It’s not simply a high-end breakfast, you are coming to realize. It’s a luxurious meal made specifically for you, with Osamu remembering and taking into consideration all of your preferences. Your heart swells. As traditional as this breakfast may seem, he really took time to only serve things he knows you will enjoy.

The easiest to discern is matcha tea, still steaming hot in the air, but you also see omurice - only the egg omelet works as a little blanket for bears formed out of the brown rice. Onigiris are in the shape of kittens, their faces way too cute. In the middle of tamagoyaki, you spy crab sticks, looking like happy radishes with eyes made from sesame and hair from kaiware seeds. There are also sweet, strawberry shortcake sandwiches waiting for you. 

It’s all for you. 

You gaze at it, the heavenly scent in the air finally waking you from the daze. You spin around to look at your childhood friend and he offers you chopsticks that you take with trembling hands. 

“Osa-chan,” you whisper, a little bit broken, “It’s _too_ much.” 

A chuckle resounds in the air. 

“It’s too little,” he disagrees with you and your fingers clasp around the chopsticks a little bit tighter, “You deserve so much more, [Name]. I know the flowers will never come back, but I hope you can feel a little bit better after that,” he pauses again, looking anxiously at you with the corner of his eyes, “This is my apology to you.” 

Once again, you feel like crying. Though, it’s really strange: Atsumu made you cry from anger. With Rin, you wept out of sheer misery. Osamu - your _Osa-chan_ , the best friend you have ever had - causes your to tear down from-from-from- 

The emotion shaking you to the very core is so, so complicated you have trouble describing it by the words alone. It is the hurt trembling on the bottom of your stomach. It is the helplessness shivering on your neck. It is sweetness beating out of your heart.

You sniff, holding in your tears, and reach for onigiri before Osamu can say a thing. You gaze at the little kitten’s face and take a cautious bite of its ear. The familiar taste of the rice seasoning hits your tongue. The ideal combination of sweetness and savory, smoothness and crispness, friendship and love. 

It is absolutely delicious. 

You take another bite of onigiri, and then another, and another. You eat it until nothing is left, only the remains of rice and nori on your fingers. Without thinking much, you start to lick your fingers, not wanting to waste anything. 

Only then you lift your head and reach over to pinch Osamu’s cheek. A laugh resounds in the air and he smiles at you serenely. 

“Love you too, darling,” he rests his head on your shoulder and you flick his forehead. He whimpers at that but doesn’t move his head. Instead of that, he puts his arm around your shoulders, “Love you so damn much.”

You hate the bastard so much. 

“SamSam,” you call out. Your tone is much, much weaker than you expected and you clear your throat, trying to fix that, “You are fucking dick, you know that, right?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees easily. You sigh and reach for the chopsticks placed on the side of the table. You break them apart and put them in your fingers. With utensils in your hand, you take tamagoyaki and start to nip at it, “I think I may be a jealous asshole too.” 

You stay silent, offering him your chopsticks with the pieces of egg. He smiles at that, but you can’t help thinking that smile looks somewhat self-deprecating. 

“I’m not jealous about you eating, honey.” 

You take your chopsticks away from his lips, wrinkling your nose in confusion. Well, fuck you sideways, what is he talking about? You direct your eyes towards the table and swing your head to the right, and then to the left, silently offering him to take anything he wants out of the feast. 

Yes, it’s your apology or whatever, but he was the one who made all of it. You don’t mind sharing this food with him. Osamu shakes his head, though, lifting his head from your arm and straightening his back. The grey-haired boy then sighs, leaning forward and placing his arms on his open legs.

“I meant I’m jealous about other people getting close to you,” he explains, sounding very much defeated, “I used to be so proud of you, back in the beginning. I still am, somewhat,” he pauses for a second, closing his eyes, “I was so happy and proud when you befriended Rin. He is not a bad person, even if he is a massive idiot. But I don’t like you close to anybody out of our team.” 

It’s a little bit hard for you to find a response to those words, so you simply don’t answer, letting him get this all out of his chest. You shift a little, trying to get into a more comfortable position to look at him. One of your legs swings out of the couch, while you bring the second one underneath and then reach for another onigiri with your chopsticks, munching on it as he talks.

It’s not stress-eating this time. Or it is. You don’t even know. 

“[Name],” he whispers your name softly. If you didn’t know already how much he loved you, then the way he intoned simply your name would tell you. You look over to him and take in his whole silhouette, the tired, tired eyes, and fidgeting fingers, “I’m never going to leave you alone, so you should really stop thinking of yourself as a burden.” 

“How can I?” you snap back bitterly, biting down on your lip and swallowing onigiri. Without thinking much, you leave the chopsticks on the table. 

Suddenly, you feel as if he would never understand what you feel if you didn’t try to explain. So, this is exactly what you do. You clasp your hands close to your heart and breathe loudly, readying yourself to speak aloud to one of your best-hidden secrets, the crippling fear and overwhelming guilt you carry yourself for a year.

It’s hard, you find out, way too hard. Harder than it has any right to be. 

“I know how it works, SamSam,” you confess to his bewilderment, “I know that you would have better chances to get scouted or get a scholarship in university were it not for me. I know that I destroyed your future,” instantly, his head lifts up and he turns around to look at you. He opens his mouth, but you don’t let him object, raising your voice, “If not me, if you didn’t have to take care of me, if you weren’t afraid I will starve myself, then you would play in the line-up last year.”

You don’t know what he expected you to say. Whatever it was, it was not it. You see it easy in the way he stiffens, in the way his breath comes in far too short, the way his eyes erratically jump from your face to your fingers and your head. 

He is looking for wounds long since gone. He is looking for broken bones long since healed. The bruises are gone from your body, but not from your heart. How do you even get better after spending nearly a year in isolation, refusing to leave your apartment out of fear of seeing somebody who hurt you?

You don’t know. Your friend doesn’t know either. He is probably blaming himself for not understanding sooner and you hate it. He is not responsible for your thoughts. He cannot fight your feelings. Still, he probably feels awful. How could he not? He is your best friend. He loves you way too much. 

But the thing is, that one fact you held close to your chest, way too guilty and scared at the same time. You want to let them go. You want to see them thrive. You want them safe and sound, even if that means you will never see them again. 

“You didn’t destroy anything,” he says gently, reaching over to you. You shake your head, not letting him pull you into the hug. 

“But I did, Osa-chan,” you softly fight back, twisting your face into the pathetic expression, “You have to abandon me or I will just break you and TsuTsu more. Please, just let me go.” 

Your plea falls on the silent ears. Osamu doesn’t care, it seems. Why are you surprised? He is Miya, of course, he doesn’t. He takes you into his arms, clutching you tightly, refusing to let go. 

“Not like that, [Name], take this shit back,” he demands harshly, way too harshly that you are used to. You grasp into his shirt, ready to fight when suddenly, he releases you, but only to take your face into his hands, “You say we don’t trust you, and yeah, that’s true, but we don’t need trust. Who needs something like that?” he asks as he gazes into deeply into your eyes, “I wouldn’t trust Tsumu with taking care of fucking stone and I know that the idiot loves this sport too much to let one year stand on his way to become a pro.”

You look back at him and shake your head. It’s not like you don’t think Atsumu or him are going to make it big, you just know it would be so much easier if-if-if that weren’t for you. You bite down on your lip, ready to argue with him when he opens his mouth again. 

“I’m not going to play volleyball after high school.”

You choke on the air. 

“What-what-what do you mean?” you stutter out, “Don’t you love volleyball, Osa-chan? I don’t understand.” 

You truly don’t. 

You shift your eyes to him, trying to find anything that will help you solve this unsettling situation you found yourself in. This is what you thought: both Atsumu and Osamu would die playing volleyball. 

You are pretty sure that Ms. Shouko signed them up for that one, fateful class because their grandmother was too tired of them destroying things in Himawari Ryokan and wanted them to use their energy on something less-flammable. You didn’t join them, mostly because of the pressure coming from your brother, which is why you found yourself very much perplexed when they returned, star-eyed and holding volleyball balls. 

You used to be jealous of the sport, not knowing why your ninja-friends suddenly talked about nothing but volleyball, but that feeling disappeared with time. You couldn’t, after all, hate something they loved so much. 

There is - was? - passion in them for this sport, the one you couldn’t really understand, as you hid in books and documentaries, having the most fun when you tried to clumsily draw the map of the Roman Empire. You were the happiest like that, not on the scene or in the classroom. 

You swear they were the happiest when they played volleyball. 

“I do,” the smile he sends you is bittersweet like dark chocolate. Something prickles on your skin, only there is nothing on it, “It’s not your fault, don’t you dare even think like that, darling,” he closes his eyes and breathe out, before he opens them and says with a determined tone, “I love volleyball, but I don’t love it as much as Tsumu. I think I will go after a culinary career instead.” 

The culinary career. That makes sense in this senseless world you are suddenly thrust into. The food Osamu makes is delicious, of course, it is, but still, your skin prickles and prickles, because somehow about that feels wrong. 

_Don’t love it as much as Tsumu_ ? you repeat in your mind, _Why does it manner? He loves it very much as well._ Is it selfish of you to think like that? You just want him to be happy and if cooking makes him happy, and you know it does, shouldn’t it be alright? It should. You should smile and be a good, supportive friend, and yet, it still feels so wrong. 

“D-Does he knows?” you finally decide to ask, as you look into his eyes. He averts his gaze and you know what his answer is going to be, “Osa-chan, he is going to throw a fit, he is a clingy, clingy motherfucker. You have to tell him.” 

Osamu shakes his head, looking way too resigned for somebody claiming to be so sure of his future. You don’t know what to think of it all, you really don’t and you cannot help but wish that Atsumu was here to help you wrap your head around it, even if he would just throw a stupid tantrum and not help at all.

“He is going to behave like a brat anyway, make sure to film that, mama is going to love this shit. Not to say it’s going to be worth fortune when he makes it big,” he grins, but the said grin is gone in the blink of the eye, “The idiot always thought we will be together forever, but it’s impossible. I wouldn’t ever want to.” 

That’s a big lie, but you don’t call him out for that. 

Isn’t it funny that for someone claiming he doesn’t trust his twin in the slightest, he is so sure he will make it big? Yeah, it is. Osamu is such a tsundere, sometimes, you suppose. You sigh, defeated and he tears himself apart from you. You look at his face, so, so tired and you don’t want to fight with him anymore, even if you don’t agree with everything he said. 

“Is that why you apologized on your own?” you question, your hand reaching to his. He offers you it without any question, letting you nervously play with his fingers. 

“Yeah. One day, I will have my own restaurant. You will be whatever you want to be. It doesn’t mean who you will be, I know you will be brilliant,” he retorts without any sort of hesitation. You wish you could believe in yourself at least half as much as Osa believed in you, “Tsumu will play volleyball and we will not see each other every day.”

The perspective of such a future fills you up with dread. You don’t want a world in which you are not seeing any of them. You don’t want a world in which they are gone from your life. You were - are - ready to give it to them, you truly are, but that doesn’t change the fact that you love them and love is so selfish. 

You bite down on your lip, your eyes trained on his slender fingers. In the contrast to the hands of Atsumu, his are full of blisters and small scars that when he was learning how to cook. He used to show them to you with such pride, talking about how he nearly lost fingers to a knife or boiling water. 

Were you stupid to not see how he loved it? You stay quiet, not sure how to even answer, and so, Sam continues mercilessly. 

“But that will change nothing because you will still be my best friend, [Name]. You are not getting out of this deal.” 

You wish those words could bring you as much solace as they used to. 

“Osa-chan, I love you, I do,” you confess to your feelings easily, “But I’m super unsure about everything. I still want to be friends with Tobio, as long as he doesn’t mind, and-and, well, I hope you are not going to be against it.” 

His second hand, suddenly, is on yours, encompassing the two of your petite palms easily. 

“He will only refuse if he is out of the mind,” he says confidently, comforting you even when he doesn’t need to. Then, you hear him exhale, “Jealousy makes you do stupid things. I’m not going to act as if from now on I’m not going to do even more stupid things, but I will try if that makes you feel better.” 

You know, if he promises you to try better, then he is going to try, even if that jealousy bit is still a lot to take in. His words _do_ reassure you, at the very least, and that’s probably what Osamu wanted to achieve. 

It’s more than what you got from Atsumu, at the very least. 

“Are you sure about becoming Japan’s Gordon Ramsay?” you let the question roll out of your tongue, “I mean, is that really what you want to do? I’m going to support you with my all, I hope you know that, but just-”

“Hard to believe?” he asks you way more gently than you probably deserve, “It’s not something I just thought of, you know. I talked about it with mama and she agreed to talk with granny about getting me a job in the ryokan.” 

Okay, that catches you completely out of the guard. You lift your eyes and look at him, trying to understand when he has time to do all of that when he is taking care of you and Atsumu, attending the club, and studying. 

“Think I can’t do it?” he arches up his eyebrow in question, wrongly reading your expression. 

“Nah, you totally can,” you say fastly, shaking your head, “Without any doubts. Bah, you are probably going to be better than anybody. It’s just - you look super happy when you play too, you know. I just want you to stay this way.” 

“As long as you are with me, I will be,” he informs you sweetly, a tender smile on his face as he reaches to kiss your brown, “Don’t worry about that, [Name].”

“Okay, then. Are we going to eat now?” 

Of course, you are going to eat. With the two of you, it's always eating, after all, and the day it would change is the day the world is hit with an asteroid. Though, it’s surprisingly hard to get Osamu to eat the food with you… Okay, that’s a lie. You don’t even need to try. 

_(It’s not your fault,_ you remember his words. 

But it is.)

* * *

HAHAHA. YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONE? YOU FOOLS, I WAS ONLY ree-working chapters 1-5, because my complexes told me to. I added, well, a little bit more world-building. Reading the old chapters make me foolishly think I became a little bit better at writing (￣▽￣) Let me stay in my self-denial. Ofc, I'm not going to make people read through them, so there are differences:

  * Inarizaki is one of the best schools in Japan alongside Kamomedai and Itachiyama. It also rather than having one uniform, has three variants the student wear.
  * The Committee's Interlude I was completely re-worked. It gets now a little bit more into the character of Sara, plus introduces other heads of the Committee: Rui, Kaguya, Kei, Ieyasu, and Hibari.
  * MC doesn't now think about marrying Kita at the start. I used to think it's just funny, but it really works against what I established in the later chapters about her character.
  * MC started her nickname bullshit from the beginning, calling Rin a Zombie and Aran an Edgar Allan Poe.
  * MC used to have a friend named Yua. Nothing much more is known about her right now, though! ;3
  * MC knows shit-all about volleyball like it supposed to be.
  * I also, may, or may not, gave her a canon birthday date, because I have plans (TM).
  * More foreshadowing if you can something so blatant foreshadowing,
  * Characters are more in-character now!



Now, I plan to re-work the rest of the chapters, so you know, be doing that when I'm not obsessing over something new. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Osa's apology was the first I thought of, so, ofc, I had the biggest trouble with that bitch. 

And a little bit of curiosity: there was a bear during the battle of Monte Cassino. His name was Wojtek. The said bear was a member of the 22nd Artillery Supply Company and actually helped his fellow soldiers by carrying artillery. Following that battle, he was promoted to the lance corpolar. There are a lot of his photos online, feel free to die over cuteness with me.

Thank you very much for reading and waiting for an update <3 Have a hug. Or two. Or three...


	45. In which there is no breakfast (damn it).

The rice stubbornly stays on your fingers and you lick them off, not wanting to waste anything of Osamu’s food. That may not be the best idea, though, if the glare of butler standing just before the entrance of the cafeteria is anything to get by. Osa’s tender smile instantly disappears when he senses the harsh, judging gaze on your figure. 

Lazily, the silverette lifts his eyes, the honey-colored irises daring the man to say anything rude while you hide your hands behind your back, fidgeting on your toes from embarrassment. The butler has to be paid way too much to care because he straight-up ignores your faux pas and arches his back in a perfectly polite bow.

“Welcome, honored guests,” he says, motioning with his hand towards the table at the center of the room. You easily notice the dyed mantle of Atsumu bobbing head as his chuckles resound, causing guests of the restaurant to gape at him with clear disapproval. 

Oh, sorry, did you say cafeteria before? You meant a fucking restaurant. It’s not like you are inexperienced with restaurants, gods know how many you were banned from, but the room looks like something straight out of the television. Your school has no chill whatsoever.

You don’t even try to hide your frown. Osamu looks back at you, before offering you his hand. You take it eagerly, making sure you grasp his palm by the hand you have not licked. 

“Yeah, whatever,” your friend answers nonchalantly to the butler. The man raises his brow, the only visible mark of the scorn he has to feel towards the horde of teenagers appearing in his pristine restaurant. The silverette doesn’t care in the slightest, though, just leading you towards your team’s table and not granting any more attention to the butler. _That_ makes you feel a little better, so you follow him with a little skip in your step. 

When it comes to food, neither you nor Osamu has any shame, which is exactly why you find yourselves in the hotel’s cafeteria even after eating the breakfast made by the silverette. You doubt that whatever they serve can come close to the quality of the meal made by your friend, but hey, your school is paying for your breakfast! It would be rude as heck of you to not use their generosity and eat it!

It still doesn’t make you feel better about the gazes of adults already eating in the restaurant. Seriously, you start to think every adult is an enemy by the way they react to all of you. You don’t plan to snap and go into a killing spree, can they just, please, pretty please, stop looking at you? 

You bite down on your lip when you finally reach your table. Osamu brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles tenderly before dropping it. You stifle a giggle as he pulls a chair out for you, but drop down nonetheless, letting him slide your chair closer to the table. You smile brightly at him, your eyes twinkling, and he answers you in kind. 

He proceeds to hit Atsu’s blond head with an open palm and the elder twin winces. He abruptly turns around, abandoning his little tête-à-tête with Oreo Cookie of all people.

Yeah, that blond bitch was too busy talking with Bokuto to even notice you. Maybe that whole not-in-the-war-anymore thing is not working out great for you. You don’t know how to feel about that disrespect, so you just huff and move to kick his leg as Osamu settles in the chair beside you. He leans on his chair back support, completely ignoring his twin’s hiss.

“Hey, Myam-san!” Oreo Cookie waves cheerfully, bouncing on his seat. You blink, confused. It’s not hard to notice that he is definitely looking _different_ this morning, though you can’t quite put your finger on why.

Squinting your eyes, you look at him. It takes you a moment to understand that his hair, which yesterday looked pretty much normal, is spikey and wild. Hello, gravity, what is this shit? How does his hair do that? You are pretty sure that is against the laws of the universe, and yet, there he sits, completely oblivious to the fact he is breaking the world. 

Does Atsu even have so much gel, hidden somewhere? Why would he need it? You look back at the blond, but there is nothing extraordinary about him if you don’t count the fact, he really, really, needs to dye his hair.

So, yeah, you have no idea what is happening, and the fact that Bokuto is wearing way too small clothes doesn’t go unnoticed by your inquisitive eyes. You would like for it to go unnoticed. It’s really hot in there, is it not? You avert your gaze, trying not to look at him anymore. 

_Wait, Myam-san?!_

You squirm, confused as hell as you meet the dead gaze of Rin. He yawns, placing his phone down on the table before winking at you. You tilt your head at Atsu, trying to silently ask him _what the hell happened here._ He shrugs, leaving you even more baffled. 

“What the heck, that hurt, Samu!” the blond yelps loudly, massaging the spot the silverette hit him, the absolute drama queen, “What was this for anyway?!” 

Your friend scares away the first-year who was sitting next to him with a glare. The poor Rizekai just runs away, not looking back and taking the furthest chair from all of you. What a wimp, he definitely deserved that. With that taken care of, Osamu answers dryly, “For your ugly face.” 

It seems all of you are going to ignore the literal elephant in the room that bounces on his seat, swinging his upper body wildly. The weeds completely ignore him, too busy arguing. Is that what you are doing right now? Seriously, is nobody to question his presence at your table? Okay, you can play this game too, but nobody better fault you later about that. 

“Hi, hi, Shin-chan,” you wave your fingers towards the captain, doing your best to focus on the actually important people, “Did you sleep well tonight? You had to, without weight attached to your hip.” 

You giggle, even if the joke is more self-deprecative than teasing towards him. Kita lifts his eyes to meet yours and you see the corners of his lips turn up slightly. You beam at that, the happiness under your skin feeling like colorful, bright sparkles. You are so lucky, having so many wonderful friends around you. 

“Good morning, [Name],” he greets you calmly, ever polite and gracious, even as he is surrounded by demons. His gaze softens as it rests on you, “You would never be a burden to me. Don’t think about yourself as one.” 

You can’t find an answer to that as you fiddle with your fingers, suddenly feeling super bashful. Shinsuke’s words don’t help you cool down at all, only provoking the fire of embarrassment in your chest even further. Even if the motion is hard to believe, it’s insanely sweet of him to say so. 

Not to forget that the captain truly believes in what he is saying. Hello, what did you do in your past life to deserve meeting Shinsuke Kita? Maybe the past-you wasn’t such a bitch as you thought after all. 

“Hey, where is my _hi_ , pretty girl?” Rin complains loudly, snapping his fingers to catch your attention. Instead of saying anything, you pull down your eyelid and stick your tongue ever-so-slightly through your lips. 

You swear that the noirette smiles at that, but his smile disappears in the blink of the eyes, childishly copying your gesture. You can’t help the snicker that leaves your mouth at that, causing him to grin at you. 

“Stop being jealous, Rin,” Osamu sighs, his voice harsh, but lacking the cutting edge. The grin on Dead Man Walking’s face disappears and he looks back at the silverette with absolute deadpan. Osa shrugs nonchalantly, “That’s unattractive as hell.”

“The real reason why can’t he hold the girlfriend for longer than a week,” Atsu uncharacteristically agrees with his twin, though the smirk playing on his face looks very much vicious as he calls out to Suna, “By the way, Rin-kun, don’t you feel a little too confident when you talk to my dear, dear sunshine?"

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Atsumu,” the noirette drawls on, putting his face in his palm, “I’m just talking with _my precious, precious friend."_

Your heart beats so loudly you are pretty damn sure everybody can hear it. You shake your head, shyly hiding behind the veil of your hair. You even raise your hands to hold it steady on your face, trying your best to hide your sudden embarrassment. 

It’s very much new, being called a precious friend of Suna Rintarou. Not a bad kind of new, though, no way. You like it very much, but you simply weren’t ready for more affection in the morning. Validation feels good in your chest, making you think of the sweet taste of strawberry. Cthulhu, you now crave strawberries. Thanks, Rin, damn it. 

“Rin-kun, aren’t you a bold one now,” Atsu seethes, not even trying to hide the fury layered in his words, “I wonder if you were so dashing yesterday or if you played little wittle wuss.” 

Okay, so did Rin have a break-up with his girlfriend earlier and it was all Atsu’s fault? Did, roll the drums, TsuTsu steal Rin’s significant other?! You gaze at the blond and then at Rin, feeling the delicious drama in the air. That’s definitely a new development and you wish you had popcorn or something to watch the unfolding action. 

Your plate is still empty, damn it. Where is the luxurious breakfast you were promised? The waitress nearby taps her foot impatiently but doesn’t move at all, letting you all starve. 

You have never seen a love triangle in the real-life and you are so ready for it to be your first, as long as nobody ends up hurt! If somebody does, you may have to find the bitch who is playing with your friends’ feelings and scar her for life. 

Jokes out of the way, you don’t like the sudden change of atmosphere. You swear sparkles are going between Atsu and Rin, strange competitiveness that you swear wasn’t there before. You very much doubt it’s sexual tension as you crinkle your nose in wonder, swinging your legs under your seat. 

“Atsumu-chan, you should be the last person to call anybody out on jealousy,” you finally decide to say, not sure if seeing the love triangle is worth watching your friends fight, “Stop behaving like Neatherdals and start being homo sapiens you are supposed to represent, morons.” 

The blond scoffs but lowers his eyes, pouting childishly. 

“Men,” you comment idly to the air. Air, of course, doesn’t answer you, so you shot a gaze towards confused looking Bokuto, “Now, Oreo-chan, not that I mind, but seriously, what the fuck are you doing there?” 

“Choco-chan,” he calls out your name in a serious tone and you blink at the sudden change of the attitude. He leans through Atsu and places his hand on your shoulder, “You have a potty mouth,” he informs you earnestly. 

You tilt your head, swaying his hand away. 

_What the hell?_

“That Samu’s fault, Bokkun,” Atsumu speaks out. Suddenly, you feel a desire to plant your head on the table. Isn’t he missing completely the point? “I told him so many times to hold his tongue in before he influenced our little treasure, but he never listened. This is why mama doesn’t like him at all.”

Wait, ignoring all of the bullshit he spews, did he just call Bokuto a _Bokkun_? When did that happen? How did it happen? Are you in an alternative universe right now?

“Myam-san, how could you?!” 

_Myam-san again?!_

You have trouble comprehending any of that. Seriously, your brain is not capable of understanding what the fuck is happening around you right now. The last time you checked, Tsu seemed to despise Bokuto and Osa didn’t know him at all, and now they are all buddy-buddy with each other? 

“I think he is absolutely smitten, it’s so gross to see him actually liking somebody,” Rin informs you in deadpan, pretending to tremble in the disgust, “But let’s ignore idiots. Had a good night’s sleep, _Osa-chan?_ ” 

“Fuck off, Rin,” the silverette responds passively as he yawns. Your nose scrunches. He still looks very much tired and you are painfully aware that supposedly, he is about to play a match soon. You hate how he refused to go to sleep, not wanting to leave you alone now that your war was over. 

No matter how much you pinched him, he didn’t back down, the stubborn bastard. He has to be dead tired, you just know that. How is he supposed to play like that? Seriously, you love him but you have no choice. Somebody has to be responsible and as the current holder of the twins’ two brain cells, it can be only you. 

You tap your fingers against your knee. He will be sad, but you will have to talk with Kita to get him out of the game. He is in no condition to play with the Weasels. 

“What is with the trash can and Bokuto Koutarou anyway?” Rin asks both you and Osamu. You shrug helplessly, being just as confused as him, “Is this some sort of the messed up affair?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t want to know,” Osa answers lethargically, “They were like that when I returned to the room. I guess the idiots didn’t sleep at all.” 

“Who are you calling an idiot, Samu-kun?!” 

“Yeah, Myam-san!” 

“Why is he calling you Myam-san, Osa-chan?” you whisper, your head spinning as you really don’t know what is happening around you anymore.

At this point, if somebody claimed it’s all a prank, you would feel better. Though you would still not hesitate to punch their smile off for playing with you and your friends like that. Not cool, even if they will share with you ad revenue from the youtube video. 

“At this point, I’m too afraid to ask,” Osa admits tiredly rubbing his eyes with his palm. You click your tongue frowning a little at that. 

“And just so you know, demons, you have the same fucking face,” Rin informs them, completely ignoring all of you. _All of you_. You arch your eyebrow at that, ready to start arguing, but he continues, “Both of you are equally ugly.”

“That’s objectively not true. They are pretty boys, Rinnie,” you are fast to defend your friends. Then, smiling mischievously, you look straight at Atsumu, as you boldly proclaim, “But Sam-chan is much more handsome.”

The older twin scoffs and reaches over to ruffle your hair, aggressively pulling your locks and destroying whatever order you used to have on your head. You groan loudly, trying to pat his hands away. 

“Is he?” he asks you, taking the hand away from your head at least and pinching your cheek. You growl and swat at his palm, disgruntled, “Oh, c’mere, sunshine, you deserved it.” 

You definitely did not, so you huff loudly, faking annoyance. Atsu sees through and he only chuckles, before stroking your lips gently and taking his hand away at last. The intimate gesture makes your mouth curl into a soft smile. 

It’s strange how much you love this moment, though. He is little shit, but he is your little shit, and you missed it, missed him. It’s really, really good to have him - and Osamu, and Rin - back, your friendship as strong as ever. 

You are not going to tell him that, though. Without thinking much, you bring your hand to his nose and tap it, asking politely, “TsuTsu, what’s Oreo-chan doing over there? Is his older sister not going to worry?” 

“Hi, Choco-chan!” Bokuto bumps his hand into the air, smiling at you with a smile that is impossibly wide and somehow very much loud. Before meeting him, you didn’t think a smile could be loud, but oh, well, “It’s nice to see you!” 

You answer his enthusiasm with a shy smile. That, though, seems to be enough for him as your bashful response makes him positively _shine_. 

“ _Choco-chan_? Gross,” Rin comments dryly from his seat across from you, “So, so, so gross, I can’t take it all. See you in hell, y’all.”

With that said, he starts to slowly slide from his chair, diving down under the table. You giggle at the silly display, crossing your legs and clasping your palms around your knee. 

You don’t know what exactly is gross about your nickname, though. Yeah, it doesn’t exactly fit you, but you people called you way worse. _Choco-chan_ sounds cute, not insulting in the slightest. Does he try to hint it is actually an insult or is he just playing around? The worst thing about Rin is that you don’t know, though you are going to trust his words are not directed towards you. 

You squint your eyes, suddenly nervous about the possibility of Bokuto just mocking you. You squint your eyes at him, but you can’t discern any sort of malice from him. You are going to stay vigilant, though, to see if a terrorist agenda sips through him. You don’t have a lot of counter-terrorist tactics right now, but you can work on it in the meantime. 

“Watch over my throne next to the Lord of Darkness,” you finally tell him in a conspiratorial tone, “Going to join you soon, RinRin.”

“Will wait for you a thousand years or something, Lady Death,” he shows you a thumbs-up before completely disappearing below the table. You tilt your head, a little bit confused about the new nickname before your eyes positively sparkle up, “Don’t worry, demons, will say hi to your dad too.”

The half-muffled retort makes you stop in your glee. Your friends pursue their lips in the two identical scowls and you hastily bump your shoulder against Osamu’s and then Atsumu’s, trying to take their minds out of that particular matter. 

Rin didn’t mean anything bad by that. Probably. 

“It’s even better Miss Murder, SamSam,” you whisper fervently, leaning towards the silverette and bringing your hands to press them against your heated cheeks. His sour expression instantly vanishes at the sight of your enthusiasm, “He called me Lady Death, _the_ Lady Death. I don’t deserve the honor.”

A fond smile appears on Osamu’s face. His hand moves to rest on your head and he pats it gently. You wiggle in your seat, still thinking about the Russian sniper as Atsumu clears his throat, demanding the attention of the room. You drop your hands, slightly inclining your head towards him. 

“You are such a simp, Rin-kun,” he says. It’s a relief he doesn’t focus on the word dad, instead, coming to an entirely different, much more stupid point, “How long did it take? Three weeks? At least I and Samu have the excuse of knowing [Name]-chan for several years.”

A hand comes from below the table, flipping him off. 

“What is Rin doing?” comes Aran’s voice as the boy joins you all on the table, slipping to the seat next to Shinsuke. The captain of the team doesn’t really seem impressed by the antics of his colleagues, but he doesn’t say anything, “Is he fine?”

“You are talking about Rin, Aran, he is never fine,” Atsumu waves his hand nonchalantly. Okay, now that you know he is alright - and with Osamu’s hand atop of your head, you can go back to the more important matters. 

You bounce your head, way too enamored with your new nickname, even if you don’t feel worthy of being compared to _the most successful female sniper in history_ when you never even held the sniper rifle in your hands. It’s not too late to start learning, of course, but still. 

You love it so much you don’t even try to fight the smile from your face, smiling cheekily for all the world to see. Your joy is of course not to be held longer with the actual sons of Satan beside you.

Atsu throws his arm under your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest. You yelp, not expecting to be suddenly yanked around like an overgrown rag doll towards the blond. Somehow, you end up half-sitting on him with your legs still on your former chair. The poor butler is going to cry. 

Osamu sighs and throws the nearby spork on his brother. It's a pity that Atsu dodges and ends up not losing one of his eyes. Then, he has the audacity to pinch your cheek. You spin your head and move to bite it, but he escapes the grasp of your teeth easily. You hiss, as his arm wraps around your wrist, causing you to wince in pain. 

“That fucking hurt, TsuTsu, you idiot,” you hiss and the embrace gets a little bit looser, letting you live, “Thanks, Satan.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” he teases. You snort and pull his nose a little, causing his cheeky smile to disappear for the second. He leans down and places his lips on your head in apology, “Didn’t mean to hurt you, sunny.” 

The words are quiet, uttered softly under his breath. They are for your ears only, and you giggle at uncharacteristic bashfulness, as look up and bring your hand to his cheek. You trace your thumb across his cheek, giggling as he becomes redder. 

“Who do you think you are talking to, TsuTsu?” you ask, a smile tugging on your lips as you snap your fingers at his chin, “You couldn't hurt me if you tried to, you bastard.” 

His face is still red as he sends you a sweet smile. With that, you stop pretending to be disgruntled about your new position and shift a little, trying to get more comfortable on his laps. You look towards your legs, thinking of putting them down and saving the poor butler’s heart, but before you can, Osamu just lifts them effortlessly. He slips to the chair belonging to you and places your legs at his. 

Well, fuck, look who just got the best seat in the castle. The only thing you lack is food, a glass of wine, and that sniper rifle. You giggle cheerfully and stretch your arms, getting comfier and comfier. 

Then, a shiver goes through your spine. You look around, sensing somebody’s gaze on your figure and not liking it very much, to put it mildly. Nauseous would be much more accurate. Yeah, you want to throw up from the sheer nerves some jack-ass stupid stalking causes you.

You glance at Oreo Cookie and, who would expect, ding-ding-ding! We have a winner. Only, there is no prize, just more confusion as you wrinkle your nose, not knowing why he is glaring at you like that. Were his eyes always so intense? Once more, they make you think of some sort of predator. Tiger, maybe. Well, with hair like that, he definitely looks like a white tiger. 

He is Oreo Cookie. He is Dalmatian Puppy. And now, he is White Tiger? How can one person have so many personas? Are you going to call him Zebra soon? C’mon, [Name], get your head back in the game and stop fooling around. This is literally what you trained your whole life for. That boy over there is a terrorist, or maybe an agent of enemy’s intelligence- 

_Wait. Wait. Fucking stop over there, Date. He is fucking an agent of the CIA!_ You really don’t know a lot about present intelligent agencies, which was never a problem before. Now it is one. Fuck. You go through your memories, being pretty sure that MI6 changed its name to something like SIS? Mossad is still operating as well, but you are pretty sure KGB doesn’t exist anymore - or that’s what they want you to think. You know that Revolution never truly ends. 

This is exactly why you should watch fewer documentaries about Rome and more about the present era. Stupid Romans and their stupid, interesting culture and history. 

But yeah, your point stands. 

Bokuto Koutarou is the enemy of the state. He is using his muscles to seduce people of every nation on the orders of-of-of- wait, it’s fucking Washijo again. Yes, this is why you were attracted to him. He wanted that for the very beginning, planned everything, from bumping into you to jumping into the river. He even planned for your little Kakashi to drown! This is why he was angry that Tsu got to him first. You played into his palm, just offering like that, without a second thought, to house him there. Worst of all-

_Oh my Cthulhu, he already has Tsu wrapped around his little finger. This all makes sense now. He has your friend, your precious, precious friend indoctrinated!_

You fidget a little bit and poke Atsu. When he shifts his attention to you, you point with your finger to his new best friend. Thanks to the telepathy, he instantly understands you without any words exchanged. You send him a mental high-five. That’s friendship, bitches, it can win even against the best propaganda. 

“I know my dear Sunshine is a very beautiful girl, Bokkun,” he starts slowly, tugging your hair behind your ear. As he talks more, his tone becomes sharper, making you think of needles slowly prickling Dalmatian’s skin, “But I don’t appreciate you looking at her like that, and neither does she or my evil clone,” he tips his chin towards Osamu, and yeah, the silverette is definitely emanating his murder aura, “So stop it, okay? Or I will get angry.” 

Bokuto whimpers, his whole posture deflating and his hair becoming less spiky. He really has to control gravity or some shit, because you are pretty damn sure things like that shouldn’t be possible. 

He is psychic and a spy? Wonderful. You are so fucked. You scrunch your nose, trying your best to resist as this dangerous, dangerous man crosses arms around his chest, fuck, it’s chest again, “I’m sorry, Tsumya, Choco-chan.”

The words sound strangely sincere, which means he is a really good actor as well. Well, that shouldn’t be surprising taking into consideration how he managed to deceive you, the future Conqueror of this very world. Good thing you already know about his tragic, but unpredictable betrayal that will happen in the future arc. 

“I just don’t understand,” he continues sullenly, not knowing that he is already busted, “Why do you swear, Choco-chan? You really shouldn’t do that.” 

You hate how this makes you want to hug him, pat his head, and promise everything will be okay. Nothing will be okay for him, oh no, no, no. Nobody messes with your friend without your explicit permission. 

You narrow your eyes and then, you notice his lip quivering. Dear sir, that thing is unfair. It’s a critical attack and your poor, weak heart can’t just ignore it, even when your mind understands that everything he does is to manipulate you into betraying your secret plans. You are such a wimp, damn it. If you weren’t already half-lying, then you would end dropping dead at your seat. Well, it's something you will have to thank Atsu for later.

“That’s sexist,” the muffled voice saves you. Strangely familiar muffled voice, to be more precise. You blink and as you direct your gaze, you discern the familiar black/brown hair, “Are you Gintama’s twin brother? Oh no, more twins, alas, we are all doomed.”

You flutter your eyelids in surprise. You didn’t expect Rin to crawl his way from his seat across the table to your former seat. You wonder if they even clean the floor there. Probably not - you wouldn’t, ugh, disgusting. It’s probably good he is now sitting next to a chair leg, his head against Osamu’s legs. 

“Is it?” Bokuto shouts out way too loudly and you are forced to look back at him. He clasps his big hands together and bows his head, “I’m sorry, Choco-chan! Please forgive me! I didn't mean to, honest.” 

You hate how genuine he sounds. You have a master spy on your hands and people like that are always super dangerous. He is lying, lying, lying, and you will not stand for that. You open your mouth, ready to let the curse roll out of your tongue-

_Don’t you think it’s a little unfair of you?_

You do your best not to wince as the words ring in your ears again. You curse Puffy, his whole family, his ancestors, and his predecessors. Fucker, making you question your conspiracy theories. 

The worst of it: he is fucking right. Again. 

You look up to Atsumu and find his eyes trained at you, waiting for you to react, letting you take this first step. You click your lips and take a deep breath, calming your erratic heart as you try to find the best way to answer. 

First of all, you pull your legs off Osamu, though you decide to stay on the blond’s lap. You just wriggle a bit, straightening your back and trying to look as grave and serious as you can when you are literally sitting on somebody. Atsumu’s face contorts into a frown and he suddenly looks very uncomfortable, but well, he should think of that before he wrapped himself all over you.

“Rin-chan, thank you for worrying, but I’m alright,” you gently chide Rin, dangling your leg and bumping it against his shoulder. You make sure you don’t hit him too hard, though. You are not trying to hurt him! 

Is it strange that you suddenly want to get something pretty for your legs? Maybe a simple anklet or a nice pedicure, or - Hmm, that actually sounds really comfy and makes you want to visit the spa resort. Would Osamu and Atsumu even want to go to the one sometimes? No way you will walk into such a building alone, and suddenly, you really, really need to. 

“Was not worried, pretty girl,” Rin answers lazily, before swatting you at the ankle, “I know there is nothing that could really stop you, Miss Murder.”

If they don't want to, then it’s fine too, okay. You are not going to make them, no matter how you want to go there now. It would just be nice, you guess, but you will be happy with visiting Miss Shouko in Himawari or - oh, an aquapark! Yeah, you have to go to an aquapark sometime. 

“Damn right,” you smile mischievously before turning your head toward Bokuto. Yes, calling him a kicked puppy is definitely not a metaphor, you think as your smile morphs into something a bit softer, “Don’t worry, Oreo-chan, I’m not angry.”

He lifts his head, once again making you think of the dog with how easy it is to reassure him. His gold eyes are so attentive that you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from thinking that he is a spy or terrorist. 

At this point, you have no idea if it’s paranoia, stupidity, or just straight boredom that makes you question his intentions. 

“Sorry if you feel uncomfortable with me cursing, Bokuto-san,” nervously you tap your fingers against Atsu’s leg. Your friend changes the way he holds you, tearing one of his arms apart and letting you scoot over closer to his chest, leaning against him. You are pretty sure your hair is tickling his chin, but Tsu doesn’t complain, “I can try to swear less near you, I guess, but I don’t think I’m going to stop.” 

“Call me Oreo,” he instantly says, practically ignoring all of your little speech for a second, “It’s bad enough Akaashi calls me Bokuto-san,” you arch your eyebrow, not knowing how to react to that. Who the hell is Akaashi anyway? “But why, Choco-chan?”

“Well, cursing helps me when I’m nervous or angry,” you wince, “I’m almost always nervous and angry, and I’m not going to hold back because some monk from the sixth century will not tell me what words are good and what are not.”

“Heck yeah, stick it to the old people,” Rin comments from the below. 

Aran sighs at that, the tired mom of your team looking very, very much done at this point in the clear contrast to well, both Shinsuke and Osamu. The Prime Minister simply doesn’t care and Osamu is too busy trying not to fall asleep. 

“Rin, seriously, what are you doing?”

You look back to Bokuto and see him in deep wonder, lips pursed and hand under the chin. Okay, you have no idea what he may be thinking, but you sure hope he is not angry at you or something. While you were honest about trying to curse around him, it is still something you know you will have a problem with. Well, at least he didn’t hear how Osamu swears. 

“Contemplating the worthlessness of human existence. Let’s die, y’all,” Rin’s shout sounds half-muffled and he doesn’t move a finger to stand up. You smile at that, a little bit fondly, “It’s very comfortable in hell, trust me, I’m a doctor.” 

“Rintarou,” Shinsuke speaks out, a line appearing between his eyebrows, “Impersonating medical professionals is a crime.” 

“Thanks for caring, dad,” the noirette knocks his fist against the table as if to make sure your captain hears him, “Will think back about you fondly when I’m trying to sell some sort of hoax back to Satan.” 

“Shinsuke, please!” Aran yelps out aloud, instantly ducking down to look under the table, his mom-instinct awakened as the panic sets in. You roll your eyes at the overdramatization, “Rin! Get out of there! Don’t make a scene, young man!”

“Leave me alone, mom.”

This is the exact moment the rest of the team decides to arrive. You discern among them Omimimimi, Gintama, Akagi, and Kosaku. Wait, was his name Kosaku? You don’t remember. He is a fellow anime fan, but his presence is just 

“Shouldn’t we help him?” Aran asks, looking at all of you as the rest of the team sits down. You peer at the room, but don’t see anybody rushing to get you some 

You are so going to take a star out of your review for that. You pout, looking at Osamu, who yawns again as he leans down to slap Rin’s back. The noirette only answer is to slap him back. You smile at that, a little bit sheepishly, before casting your gaze at Atsu. 

He doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable now. Well, well, well, time to change it. 

“Nah.”

“Let him rest, Aran.” 

“He will be fine.” 

“Don’t be like that!” 

You are going to be like that. Truly, your team is so sweet. 

Talking about sweet things makes you think about savory things and food. You turn around, changing your position sideways, your legs are thrown around his lap and arm on his shoulder before you bring your lips to his left ear, nibbling at it. 

You remember that he told you once to never do something like that again. Well, when somebody says something like that, you just naturally will want to do that again, right? You grin as his face becomes redder and redder, before the sudden need to hug him wins and you pull him closer to your chest. 

“[Name]!” he yells out, scandalized.

“Shut up and be a little spoon, you idiot,” you sing-song with one of your hands reaching to stroke his hair. He murmurs something into your collarbone, but you ignore it, just staying like that for the second. 

“Let him commiserate in peace, Aran,” Gintama retorts, sighing loudly as the rest of the team starts filling the room, “It’s not like we lose much with him out of the way.” 

That destroys your cuddly mood. You snort, loudly, while untangling yourself from the sea of limbs and climbing off Atsumu’s laps. You slip through the little space between his chair and the one belonging to Bokuto, the Oreo-haired boy’s eyes tracing after you as you sweep behind the older twin’s back. 

“Fucker,” you whisper under your breath, placing your hand at the cresting rail of Osamu’s seat and clutching it tightly, “I’m going to punch him. Kick him. Hit him. Crush him."

“No killing Gintama-kun, sunny, no matter how annoying he is,” Atsu says loudly reaching toward you to tug strands of your hair behind your ear, “We will return to that after we graduate. Just make sure to hide his body well, so my career is not in jeopardy.” 

You smile, ready to promise your friend that would never happen. You, the future evil overlord, know all about getting away with murder, and there’s no way you will disappoint him in that matter. You can’t even say one word, though. Your lips part because you want to speak out, but you are stopped by an aggressive voice.

“You are one to talk, Miya,” Gintama interjects, his nose scrunched in fury, “Your little harem is back, I see. Wonderful, really, I missed the constant bickering and idiocy. You know we are all there to play volleyball, right?” 

Your skin prickles a little, the insult hitting a little bit close to the heart. The one thing keeping you steady is probably the presence of all your friends around you. And the fact that you probably focus too much on the word _harem_. 

Were you not over that before? There is no harem that you are part of! You will not run the sultanate, mostly because dealing with so many concubines sounds like a pain in the ass. Not to say you read enough of the _Song of Ice and Fire_ to know this will inevitably cause a succession crisis and you are not sure if you even want any children at all. Probably not, they are smelly and annoying. Look at you: you were annoying! Not smelly, though. You always made sure to take care of your hygiene, unlike certain sand-eating twins.

No, no, no, you are not going to be _Sultana_ , even if that title sounds pretty sweet. 

“Yet,” Osamu adds, his tired eyes glistening on the light-haired boy’s figure, “How the fuck do you deal with bitch like that in the same class, Tsumu? What a pest.” 

“The sexist pest,” Suna agrees easily, at least sliding up and sitting just at the edge of Osamu’s seat. Sam, even half-dead, is a better person than either you or Atsumu could be, because he just simply moves, making more room for the noirette, “Can we just thank gods that the two of you ended up in different classrooms? I think no brick would be left of Inarizaki if they had to be in the same place for more than three hours.” 

“They used to be in the same classroom in elementary school,” you snitch, grinning mischievously, “But then one of our teachers had a nervous breakdown and they got separated until middle school.” 

“Well, she was a bitch,” Osa admits, shrugging his shoulders sluggishly. _No shame in our bodies indeed_ , runs through your mind as he reaches to Atsu and snaps his fingers next to his ear, “It was the one who did _you-know-what_ , remember?” 

“Yeah,” Atsu nods, lips frowning, “She was the worst and absolutely deserved what she got.”

 _That_ causes your eyebrow to arch up. You have no idea what they are talking about, and to be honest, you are unsure if you want to know. Both of them sound strangely somber and you try to remember why they would dislike that teacher so much, but you have trouble remembering her name or face. 

You just know that they disliked her from the very beginning for some reason. At the time, you thought the reason had to be stupid. The twins, after all, loved to break the rules and she could make them angry by simply catching them when they tried to smuggle frogs into their classroom or shout at them when they ditched their lessons to attend yours. Now, though, you wonder if it was something deeper. Or maybe it is not, and your dear friends are just petty people.

Okay, that second option seems more plausible. 

“You are both awful people,” Aran decides suddenly, acting as if it is something new as his face morphs into a deadpan, “Why am I surprised? I knew that before.” 

“We call them demons for a reason,” Rin comments, before leaning forward towards the table, eyes glistening with malice, “Who stepped on your toe, Gintama, please, do tell us. Did you fated love, fake gasp, reject you?” 

“Did you say _fake gasp_ , Rin-kun?”

“Spill the tea, comrade,” you bob your head, completely ignoring Atsu’s question, even if it is an intriguing one. You have much more important things, though. You still have no idea who is Gintama’s mysterious crush and you are going to find out, one way or another, “C’mon, Gintama-kun, share with us your misery, right?”

“Shut up, all of you,” he growls back, grinding his teeth at all of you, “And I nobody rejected me!” 

“Yet,” Osamu nods helpfully. You snicker evilly at that. It’s definitely not healthy, to be so happy because one person grimaced, but there you are, being a terrible person again. What can you say? Spending time with the twins will always carry consequences for an ordinary person. Good thing, you are not exactly ordinary!

That makes you question if maybe _you_ are a bad influence on them. Would they be so insufferable without you? You look at their equally evil grins. 

_Probably_ , you decide fondly. 

“Good morning, Kita and non-Kitas.”

You blink at Kurosu’s voice. He sounds way too cheerful to be your coach, so you can’t help but turn towards the source of his voice. Your coach looks surprisingly happy this morning. Suspiciously happy, you could say. You have no idea what made him so merry so early in the morning, but if you had to guess, it’s probably not because of his wife or a child. 

“I hate you all, I hope you know that,” he says as he sits down, coach Oomi following in his wake, “Not you, Kita, you are still the only reason I wake up every day.” 

Humming, you swirl around and sit down on the empty chair next to Osamu. With the corner of your eye, you finally see the staff moving to the kitchen. You sure hope they do that for your club, not for other guests, who probably got the best of breakfast already. 

Stupid rich people. _One day_ , you think grimly to yourself, _The Revolution will eat them as well._ That Revolution, of course, will be named [Name] and will bear your flag. When you finally get a flag. Should you just go for the classical _Jolly Roger_? 

“That’s freaky, sensei,” Atsumu drawls lazily, “Should we call the police?” 

“Shut up, Miya,” Kurosu answers, smiling widely. A drop of sweat drops from your chin as the exasperation hits you. He is mimicking Oomi, is he not? The older man leans towards the table, placing his elbows on it, “So, do you remember what you are supposed to do today?” 

“Destroy Itachiyama!” Atsu instantly perks up, eyes shining violently. A fond smile finds its way on your face and you bounce on your seat, sharing his enthusiasm.

“Learn how to be a sniper!” 

Osamu sighs very loudly before throwing his very own answer, “Eat.” 

Did somebody expect anything else? If so, they should take a course in Osamu-logy. Your smile breaks a bit, worry crawling through your stomach as his eyes straining to remain open. Eating is good, you know that very much, but at this point, you wouldn’t mind if he just took a nap. Or, Satan hold your soul, drink a little bit of coffee.

The thought alone makes you grimace. You hate coffee. You hate coffee so fucking much. It smells amazing, luring the innocents into tasting it, but when you do, you end up vomiting. So, yeah, coffee is the biggest hoax ever and should be illegal. Your precious, precious matcha tea and wonderful hot chocolate with floating dinosaurs, on the other hand, are both gifts from the heavens and should be worshipped. But yeah, returning to the point on hand - you wouldn’t mind Osamu drinking a tad of coffee if that gave him a bit of energy to go through the day. 

A loud _thump_ echoes through the room and you turn your head to see your club’s advisor lying face down at the table, fucking dead. Okay, he is not dead, because you are pretty sure even dead bodies look much more alive than he does now. 

“I think Oomi-sensei is going through his mid-life crisis,” Suna comments dryly, trying to act way too serious for a person who crawled under the table to sit next to Osamu, “Or maybe it’s hang-over. One of the two.”

“I hate you, Suna.” 

You giggle gleefully.

“I didn’t say wrong answers only, non-Kitas,” Kurosu sighs, not sharing your enthusiasm, “We have a match with Itachiyama today, and they were uncooperative about having it in their gym. I’m not paid enough to argue, so, today we’re going to the reserved gym in the city and then to the school. Take your uniforms, kids,” his eyes go through every one of you until they stop on Oreo Cookie. He squints, takes his glasses off, and wipes them with a handkerchief before putting them back on his nose, “With that out of the way, can somebody explain what exactly Bokuto Koutaro is doing there?” 

Oh, yeah. You bite your cheek, doing your best to avert your teacher’s glare. That’s a little bit your fault, is it no? Awkward, but you guess you can say something.

“Waiting for breakfast?” Atsumu more questions than answers. Kurosu doesn’t look surprised that one of the twins said something, but he is definitely done with your antics for today. And it’s not even twelve. 

Well, at least you can stay quiet, Atsu’s dignity can stay intact this time, you guess-

“Somebody whose’s the last name is not Miya, please.” 

Okay, in the end, you must share it with the world. What an awful pity. Oh, how bad you will feel about clowning your friend. Definitely. Technically, you are not a Miya, so you are the perfect person to answer, right? 

You smile sweetly at your coach and even from this distance, can see him rolling his eyes. Very much innocently, batting your eyelashes and all, you say simply one word, “River.”

This word describes everything, but if the masses need more, you are so ready to tell the world the tale about Atsumu nearly getting hypothermia for a stupid plushie. You don’t think you were ever more ready for anything else in your entire life. 

“River?” Kurosu repeats. You grin mischievously, ignoring the glare of Atsumu. _Bait, hook, and sinker,_ you think with satisfaction as you raise your finger, prepared to share with the world the newest story of Atsu doing stupid shit. Osa is going to love that. Rin is going to love it _even more_. 

Once again, though, you are rudely interrupted. Wonderful. You should get used to that, but still, you can’t help but frown at the enthusiastic shout. 

“Hey hey!” Oreo Cookie pumps his fist in the air, smiling wildly at your coach “You know me!” 

“It would be difficult not to,” Kurosu deadpans in the answer, “Yamiji doesn’t shut up about you, his star child, but really, that’s not important. Shouldn’t you be in the school right now?”

Silence.

“I forgot to go to school!" 

You swear that Bokuto’s shriek is heard on the other side of Japan. For a second, your team just looks at him, not reacting. You try to comprehend this stupidity, but before you can, Atsu starts laughing wildly. Osamu hands Rin his phone and the noirette starts filming the insanity that your life has become. 

You just sit there, dumb-founded. 

Your team’s mom raises his voice, the only sane person left waking you from the daze, “How do you even forget about going to school?!” 

Yeah, that’s a good question. You would like to know an answer to that, mostly because the perspective of going back to this _building_ keeps you awake at night. You feel a little bit jealous about his carelessness because the hell knows that you couldn’t hope to ever forget about school, way too nervous about that. 

“That means you are truanting,” Kita says coldly, his eyes narrowing, “I’m going to contact your headmaster.”

“No! You can’t, he will tell _Akaashi_! Or even worse, he will tell Kao-tan and she is really scary when she's angry." 

Bokuto’s eyes are suddenly full of fear and well, it doesn’t take a genius to hear the panic in his words. Atsumu laughs even harder, patting his back, though he doesn’t even try to lift him. 

Fuck, what is this dull feeling spreading through your chest? Is that your conscience, stinging your heart after all those years? You bite down on your lip, remorse becoming way too heavy to ignore. It wouldn’t be fair for Oreo to get into trouble because he wanted to be a decent human being. Seriously, he didn’t even hesitate. Who, if he is not a spy trying to get you to spill your secrets, does thing like that? 

You bite down on your lip, hesitantly standing up. 

“ShinShin, don’t do that, please,” you request of him. He turns towards you and his brown eyes are just so, so observant, you can’t help squirming a bit. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as your fingers grasp at the white tablecloth, “I will pay you back, somehow, so, please, please, please? It’s my fault, my idea, and Bokuto-san only wanted to help me, really, so -”

“It’s definitely not your fault,” Shinsuke interrupts, raising his eyebrow, “Don’t blame yourself for someone else’s mistakes, [Name].” 

Your frown deepens, but before you can answer, something attaches itself to your waist. It’s very hot and firm, and, oh god, it’s a human being. You blush and gulp, but before you can do anything else you are literally swept off your feet. 

“Choco-chan!” Bokuto shouts, bringing his face way too close to yours. Your face explodes, and if it was not enough for your-would-be-murderer, he flashes you a smile that makes you a little bit weak, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

You don’t know how to answer to that, but you are saved from saying anything by Shinsuke, “I’m going to call your headmaster even harder now.”

“What?!”

* * *

Hello (´ ∀ ` *) Breakfast chapter again? Y e s. Somehow, there are a lot of the breakfast chapters, and yet, no dinner chapters, hmu. But yeah, anyway, welcome back to insanity, fluff, and questionable comedy. No hurt in this chapter, we return to Tokyo Arc ;3 Still getting into Bokuto's character, hope you enjoy our big dumb baby. Do I have the update schedule anymore? The answer is I don't know, bro :3

The Lady Death that is mentioned in this chapter is Lyudmila Pavlichenko. She is to this day the most deadly female sniper, credited with 309 confirmed kills during WWII. She also used to be friends with American First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt. Together, the two women toured the USA, talking about the experience of Mrs. Pavlinchenko. She was super badass and I really recommend [this film](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bqi396loWt4) if you are interested in knowing more about her :)

Thank you for all your comments and support <3 And for continuing to read this train-wreck, lol.


	46. In which the food is still not served (this hotel sucks).

It’s hard to not think of yourself as a mess, but you feel like this title no longer fits you. Officially and lawfully, you don’t wish to be called the walking-disaster. From now on, dear sir or madam, the only name you can be described with is the _natural-born catastrophe of unexpected proportions_. The amount of damage your presence causes is something out of the charts, after all. 

You have never witnessed Osamu or Atsumu being lifted off the ground as if they weighed less than a feather. Seriously, nobody picks them up, going for you every fucking time. How any of that is fair? Are you being discriminated against because of your height? It’s not something you have control over! Damn genetics and damn your parents for not finding a taller partner. 

Your legs mockingly dangle under Bokuto’s arm. Instinctually, you reach with your palms to Atsumu’s shirt, grasping your fingers around the cloth firmly. You sure hope he is not going to drop you back to the floor. No matter how embarrassed you are to be held so by the stranger, it’s better than hitting the bruise on your stomach. 

You don’t know what to do, to be honest. The years of studying didn’t prepare you for such a possibility, which only reaffirms the point that school is pointless and should be burnt to the ground. 

“It would be appreciated, Bokuto-san, if you put [Name] back on the ground,” Shinsuke voices tonelessly. You swallow loudly and turn your eyes towards him and, oh, whoa. You didn’t expect him to look angry, but there is something irking his eyebrows, “Taking her hostage will not make me change my mind. It will only make your situation _worse_.” 

Is-is Shinsuke threatening Oreo Cookie, of all people, for _you_? 

First of all, that’s very, very sweet and you appreciate it a lot, but Bokuto, really? Even you can see he is not a terrorist or CIA agent! Okay, maybe you still think he is one in secret, but still, you are doing your best to hold off your paranoia. 

You return your gaze to the said CIA agent. Well, he doesn’t look like somebody slapped him. No, you are pretty sure Shinsuke’s words hit him with a five-ton hammer. He is still holding you tightly, even under the Freezing Glare of Death. 

Your team would be such an interesting case study in a psychology class. The topic? Insanity. They were all frozen, eyes wide in surprise, but as soon as the words fall from your Shinsuke’s lips, they wake them from whatever daze they were in. You are pretty sure Kurosu says something about _demonic screeching_ , but soon, his words are lost in the screams and roars. 

“[Name]-san!” Momjiro is the first to stand up, his voice full of concern and outrage, “Bokuto, put her down right now or I _swear_ -” 

Whoa, you never heard Aran threatening somebody. This day is full of surprises, you guess. He is, after all, a member of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. _Who keeps company with the wolves, will learn to howl,_ the proverb goes, so you really shouldn’t be as surprised. 

Okay, so the threat is not super vicious, but it’s the intent that is important. Your senpai just wanted to help you. Something warm blossoms in your chest at that thought. You never have thought that your team’s mom would want to fight for you, taking into consideration how he always seemed to disappear whatever you approached him and Shinsuke. Like, you know he cares about you, but it’s hard to understand those feelings can run so deep. 

Oreo Cookie drops his hand back to your shoulder, clutching it steady, nearly making you feel safe in his hold. _Nearly_ is the key word, because that motion causes you more embarrassment than fondness. How long does he plan to hold you like that anyway-

“Oh, Ritz Cracker-kun! Didn’t see you there before!” he answers, completely ignoring whatever your upperclassman said. A fond sense of exasperation washes through you at that. Truly, it’s strange how endearing Bokuto can behave sometimes. How could he not see Aran of all people anyway? He’s so fucking tall. 

“My name’s _Ojiro!_ ” Aran shouts back. If you were not in the arms of a stranger, you would giggle at that. Alas, you appear to still be carried by this boy you met only yesterday. 

You don’t want to hit the floor, but you really, really would appreciate not being princess-carried. Wait, he is princess-carrying you. Your heart backflips as the slow understanding of the situation hits you more and more. Don’t you love being absent-minded? Absolutely not! Your brain malfunction, error 404 flashing through your eyes as you remember how else can be called. 

Chtulhu! 

You thought your face used to be red? Well, now you don’t even have a face anymore, just a red piece of paper where it used to be! The amount of embarrassment you feel is out of the charts. He is bridal-carrying you. An attractive stranger is bridal carrying you. You don’t have the right shoes to get married, not to say anything about a dress! 

You refuse to wear shiromuku, the traditional white wedding kimono, even though one of the accessories is literally a kaiken knife, like the one wives of samurais’ wore. If you are to hold something belonging to a samurai, it’s going to be motherfucking katana. You don’t even want to start talking about tsunokakushi or wataboshi. Those headgears look so uncomfortable, it’s a hard pass from you. 

More modern styles, such as iro-uchikake and hikifurisode that came from the Edo Era, are much prettier. Still, there is a part of you that always wanted a long, colorful gown on your wedding day. It's a childish desire. Something pretty petty that your young self thought to play on your mother’s nerves. 

She never fucking shut up about the pure white kimono she wore during her wedding ceremony. Well, bugger away, mom, [Name] is going to have the western wedding dress if she ever finds some loser that will want to marry her. Yeah, that’s probably never going to happen, because there's no loser big enough to even date you. That doesn’t matter, though, one day you are going to buy a wonderful gown and stick it to the old woman. You think Rin would be proud of you for that last one. 

But wait, wait, wait! 

The fuck, why are you thinking about your wedding clothes?! You are way too young to get married! You don’t want to get married! You object. The motherfucking bride herself objects! You will not marry this man! Stop this fucking wedding-

“Let me go,” you say in a surprisingly small voice counting the mortification you feel. Bokuto doesn’t react, so you repeat the words, a little bit more forcefully, “Please, let me fucking go, Bokuto-san.” 

You can’t stop yourself from wincing as the curse leaves your mouth. It just slipped out, okay? You tried, you really, really tried, but you don’t react well to the stressful situation and somebody objectively attractive suddenly taking you into their arms is definitely a very, very stressful situation. If he doesn’t like your very eloquent way of communicating, then he shouldn’t make you swear, the motherfucking little shit. 

Thanks fuck that he doesn’t start scolding you or moaning about that. If he did, you would probably summon Satan with the number of curses leaving your mouth. You know your temper and you know that no amount of compassion will stop it from flaring like a rocket booster. 

So, yeah, good going, Oreo Cookie. 

Instead, his eyes slide down to your face. Once again, you can’t help, but think how intense his eyes are. Nervously, you thicken your grasp of the shirt he is wearing, ignoring how closely it clings to his chest. Or at least, trying to ignore it. 

_Get back on the task, Date._

You notice his lip quivering and the shame hits you instantly. For exactly four seconds, you feel bad for not taking his problem seriously. Then, he dips his head down, pulling you closer and placing his chin on the top of your head. 

Okay, you love the intimacy of being close to somebody, of hugging your friends and throwing yourself at them. Kisses, hugs, piggybacks - sign you the hell up. But with your friends only. For fuck’s sake, you had a problem hugging Rin! You are not embracing Bokuto, not really. Still, under your palms, you feel his heart beating rhythmically. 

It’s good to know he has a heart, you suppose, but that doesn’t change that you want to scream. Flustered, you can’t even hold your eyes open and shut them close. If you can’t see something, it’s not real, after all, haha.

Then, you hear his voice and the proximity makes it hard to inhale. Or exhale. Or anything. Your nerves are like a hank of wool, folded so tightly that you feel a sickening force around your throat. 

“Choco-chan, Tsumya,” Oreo Cookie whispers mercilessly. It’s nearly hard to understand words, so blurry to appear in your ears. Really, he makes it so easy to stop functioning, “Akaashi is going to be so angry at me. Or worse, he is going to be _disappointed."_

You open your eyes and bat your eyelashes a couple of times. A shiver runs down your spine as he is still there, of course, he is, opening and closing your eyes didn’t work. Worst of all, you swear his face is so so close that you can count his light eyelashes. 

He is too dangerous to be kept alive. Your heart is about to explode and his tone doesn’t help at all! His voice sounds so distressed, so sad, so morose that it pulls all of your heartstrings. You want nothing more than just hug him and promise everything is going to be fine. But that would be a lie, a big fucking lie and you are a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them. 

Most of the time, you mean. People lie and you are not perfect, after all. 

No force on this planet could change Shinsuke’s mind. And no force, not even your own self-consciousness will make you talk with this Akashi fellow to explain how _everything is your fault, pretty please don’t be angry with Oreo Cookie-chan_. That, after all, would mean talking with somebody and no matter how good you are getting at this social thing, you can’t do it without stuttering and dying. At the same time. 

You hear shuffling of the chairs and when you lean a bit to look, you see Atsumu standing from his seat. He rubs his face with the back of his palm, lips twisted in clear displeasure. You blink at him obnoxiously, but he ignores you, the bastard, placing his hand on Bokuto's shoulder. You see his fingers hooking on it with viciousness you definitely didn’t expect and wonder reluctantly if that hurts.

“Bokkun,” he starts sweetly, the voice not fitting his face at all, “It will not be so bad, what can your headmaster do anyway? You are a star of your team, he is not going to pull you out,” the reassurance rings very much empty with the dark glare he offers Bokuto, “So, you can stop touching my sunshine anytime now.” 

His tone is _saccharine_. If you could, you would start running. You can’t, of course, so you turn to Bokuto who seems to be deeply in danger. The words _star player_ make the familiar sparkle in his eyes appear again, though it disappears quickly. You don’t know if the boy can sense the thinly veiled threat, but he still doesn’t put you down, stubbornly holding into your body. 

He even has the gall to look affronted. Nah, _affronted_ is a wrong word, too overtly nice and subtle for the way Oreo Cookie reacts. He _sulks_ , his hair suddenly losing all of its vertically and falling down to his forehead - and excuse you, how the hell does it even work? _Sir Isaac, you seeing this shit?_

You look back at Tsu and his brows furrows, eyes crinkling with fury. You are surprised that Bokuto can continue standing with the pressure your friend is applying over his shoulder. If that was you, your clavicle and acromion with humerus would be already gone. Oreo Cookie has to drink a lot of milk, you guess. 

“Bokkun,” he says amicably, though he doesn’t even try to fake-smile, “We can talk about it when you are not holding [Name]-chan, okay? You are making her uncomfortable, you know.” 

Bokuto lifts his head from your head, taking his fluffy hair away to look straight at you. On the other hand, being so close to him lets you notice that his eyebrows are _white_ , which means this is his natural color. An abrupt craving comes through you. You need to touch his eyebrows. 

Yeah, you just do that. Like always, without thinking much, because thinking is so untrendy. As your fingers graze through it, you can’t help feeling how perfectly trimmed they are under your skin. You wonder if he is the one who grooms them - because hell, if he is, then you feel compelled to ask him to do your eyebrows too. 

When he feels your touch, he doesn’t flinch in disgust, thank goodness. His nose turns a little bit upwards, as if in deep wonder, before his mood visibly lifts. He doesn’t give you a radiant, overwhelming smile you saw on his face before. Rather, he curls his lips into a playful grin that quickly disappears. 

“Hey, y’all, Bokuto Koutarou has the habit of harassing young, cute girls,” the lazy drawl of Rin resounds in the room. You can nearly imagine the disgruntled faces of the staff and guests at that, “He is a _per~vert_ ~ Pass that on.” 

If he wanted to help you, then he is doing it in such a wrong way. You whimper pathetically, trying your best to keep your mind on the things more important than weddings and dresses, and marriages, and eyebrows, and stuff. God, you can’t believe this bullshit. Is that really your life right now? 

“If you care about your fucking life, you are going to let go of [Name],” an electric impulse goes through your body as you recognize Osamu’s voice. Oh god, he sounds _angry_ , “I won’t hesitate, bitch.” 

Osamu’s tone is so dark and it’s easy to discern something venomous and very much deadly lingering in his words. If you thought that the blond looked angry, then it says nothing about Osamu, who is boiling with badly hidden furry. That rage from under his skin is probably enough to provoke another World War and you share a quick, nervous glance with Atsu as blond drops his hand from Oreo’s shoulder, turning back to face his twin. 

You hear him gulp loudly and you can’t help the way your breath hitches as he hastily retreats, trying to stop genocide to Oreo’s confusion. Speaking about Bokuto, you are very much impressed he didn’t drop you the moment Osa opened his mouth. He continues holding you, his head tilted slightly, and you cannot tell if that’s stupidity or suicidal bravery. Seriously. 

_SamSam_ , you think to yourself, _would make such a wonderful Sith_. Not that you can judge him much. You are sure you would be Sith as well, but in your defense - you want your lightsaber red or black, or pink. You don’t want boring blue or green, eww. 

But yeah, returning to the object at hand. You see your childhood friend swaying from his seat. You have no idea why, though. It could be from trying to restrain himself from attacking Bokuto or because sleep is a strange concept for him. What you discern easily, though, is something shining dangerously in his palm. 

You lean a little from behind Bokuto. You blink, slowly, trying to understand what exactly it is, and feel a huff of air leaving your lungs as you do, “Hey, Sam-chan, what are you holding back there?” 

All of your team follow your gaze and you hear them gasping. Atsumu rolls his eyes and takes a step towards his twin, but Osamu only blinks innocently, placing the fucking _knife_ at the table. 

“Nothing,” he answers without any shame and you arch your eyebrow at the pathetic attempt to lie. He shrugs, seemingly not caring at all and you click your lips, seeing how utterly pathetic his murder attempt was. Really, with so many witnesses? You thought you taught him better than something like that! Is he so tired he forgot everything you told him? 

Before you can chide him, though, Rizekai’s voice resounds around the team, “What?! I thought the Vixen was-” 

“Rizekai, it would be more beneficial to you to never end this sentence,” Shinsuke’s cold voice stops him more efficiently than the Finnish stopped the Soviet Union during the Winter War. The boy in question drops back to his seat, the face dejected. Seriously, what an idiot. How could he forget that the scariest of you all is your captain? 

“His name is Riseki,” you hear Kurosu’s tired whisper, “What has my life become? Go become coach, they said, working with children is so much fun they said-”

“Boo-hoo, why do you think we call them demons, blobby fishes? Thousand yen the first one to drop is Bokuto,” Rin deadpans, making it hard to hear the rest of your coach’s words. The noirette is still holding Osamu’s phone, though, filming everything, “Osa-chan, I will visit you in the jail, don’t worry.” 

Yeah, this is what you were talking about. You scrunch your nose, focusing back at Osamu. You can’t help but fidget a bit even as Atsu is _back on his babysitting-my-homicidal-brother_ duty. It’s easy to notice silverette’s eyes that are trained at Bokuto. Your friend, you know very well, is absolutely capable of committing a murder. Stupid kind of murder, though. 

You sigh, provoking Bokoto to shift a little. The sudden movement causes you to go back to him and you stir, uncomfortable under his hawk’s eyes. He hides his lips in his mouth, seemingly in deep wonder. 

“Sorry, Choco-chan,” he finally says at least, lowering his knees and settling you down on the ground, “Didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Somehow, the tone of his voice breaks your heart, just a bit. 

Carefully, you slip from his arms, landing on the floor way more gracefully than you thought you are capable of. You take a step back, deepening the distance between the two of you. Bokuto scrunches his nose, his expression excruciatingly sad. 

For someone so tall, he looks insanely small right now. 

Your lips part and then, you close them, unsure of what to say. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, to cheer him up, but you don’t know him, don’t know what he may be thinking, what he may be feeling. 

You stand for a second, unable to move, just watching him, when the familiar arms reach for you, pulling you even further away from him, to the well-known safety. Your back hits the chest of Osamu, his hands all over you as he embraces you tightly. His head falls at your hair and you hear him sniffing it loudly as if making sure it’s you, not the evil clone Bokuto found in the CIA’s secret laboratory. 

He releases a sigh of relief and whispers your name in such a tender manner you cannot help but smile at him, “[Name], you are fine.”

Of course, you are fine. You roll your eyes inwards. He worries about you too much, sometimes. Okay, all the fucking time. Or, you guess, he is jealous too much? It’s what he claimed to be before, but you don’t see anything that indicates envy.

You don’t have time to reply. Something, or rather _somebody_ launches himself at the two of you, taking both of you into its embrace, as he shouts into your ear, “ _Sunny_!” 

Why do the two of them react as if you were gone for the war? Is that how jealousy works?! Well, that sort of jealousy is fucking stupid and you never felt it like that. Like, okay, yeah, you used to be much salty about Tsu choosing his girlfriend over both you and Osamu, but you also were happy and you didn’t miss him so much-

Or did you? You don’t remember, fuckity fuck- 

You shake your head, trying to wiggle out of the embrace and as you do, you notice that Bokuto is still looking at the three of you. 

His sullen expression disappeared and what you see on his face maybe only called a calm, neutral mien that doesn’t fit him at all. Something twists in your stomach and you can’t help but notice how _lonely_ he looks compared to you, nudged between way too excitable twins. 

Your throat feels dry at that and you shove both of the twins away, snorting loudly before your eyes return to Oreo Cookie. With his hair deflated and light gone from the eyes, he is nothing short of a little puppy. 

What’s worse, he is a little, _sad_ puppy. What are you doing with sad puppies? You hug them. You love them. You give them snacks. You play with them and you pet them. Bokuto needs all of that and you cannot just leave him like that, sad and abandoned. Not when he did nothing wrong. 

The CIA agent, a terrorist - who the fuck cares anymore? The person before you is vulnerable and helpless. If you were in his position, if Osamu and Atsumu stood where he was, you would want someone to help him. Well, fighting back the bystander effect never is easy, but your recklessness helps a lot. 

You find yourself stepping close to him once more, bouncing a bit before you stand just before him. Without thinking much, you raise your hand in the air and he instinctively leans down, letting you cradle his face in your hands. 

It is a little bit rough and you can’t help but think that he is probably the type of person who doesn’t care much about appearance. Though, the gel and eyebrow should say otherwise. Huh, what a confusing mystery. Maybe, just maybe, you will ask about that later. That-that would be nice, you suppose. 

“Choco-chan?” he asks you, his head tipped a little bit to the right. He doesn’t seem to be faking his emotions, not really. It’s more like he is hiding them? Or maybe he has trouble processing them? You don’t know. He could be feeling numb as well, and well. 

God, you hate yourself. You hate how your heart is breaking at that thought alone. You hate how much of a wimp you are. You hate how easy it is to deceive you, how you can never seem to leave sad people alone. He has to think you are so annoying and clingy, and stubborn. 

Cthulhu damn it all, you cannot stop yourself from opening your mouth, “Are you still scared of Akashi?” 

“Not only Akaashi,” he admits, visibly dejected yet again. You cannot help but feel a tinkle bit relieved at the sight of any emotion coming from him, even if that’s not exactly the positive one, “Kao-tan will never trust me with her notes again,” he complains loudly to you with a morose tone. The sullen expression on his face deepens, playing on your heartstring, “I’m my team’s Ace. They rely on me, Choco-chan.” 

_Somebody relying on you._ That you cannot understand. You are the one who people have to protect, the one who has to ask for help, the one who cannot do anything alone. You doubt anyone ever depended on you, not even the twins. The closest people to be that way were your parents, but rather than relying on you, they used you and disregarded you when you stopped dancing to their music. 

(You still remember their faces when you said you will not sing anymore. You still remember the screams. You still remember your brother’s smirk.

He got what he always wanted, after all.)

So, yeah, the feeling of carrying other people’s trust on your back is not something you can truly comprehend. What your mind can understand, though, is not wanting to disappoint others. The desperate wish not to be a burden. The pathetic need to stand on your own.

That will do. That’s all you need. 

Slowly, you move your hand, tracing your thumb across his cheek in a wavy pattern that makes his eyes go a little bit bigger. You hope it can bring him comfort, just like Osa’s touch always makes you feel better, even if he doesn’t exactly know you for long. In the end, you are both human beings that can offer a bit of respite. Or at least you hope he is a human, not the CIA agent in disguise. 

“Hey, Oreo-chan, don’t worry,” you say in a hushed tone, “I’m going to take care of that, okay? Don’t worry about a thing.”

You don’t expect him to believe you so easily, of course. 

The thing is? _He does._

For a moment, you felt overwhelmed by the faith he gifts you almost too easily. It’s infinitely difficult to trust, to not question every person’s decision, and he does it without blinking, a dazzling smile etched on his face. You can only observe speechless the way his eyes crinkle innocently with mirth. 

“Okay, thanks, Choco-chan!” 

A shy smile blossoms on your face in answer. You tap your foot on the floor, once, before dropping your hand and spinning around towards your new objective. You have to talk with Shinsuke, and so, you head towards him.

Your smile breaks a little. It’s not going to be easy. Shinsuke doesn’t care about Bokkun’s visible distress, that’s easy to see. You cannot count on him this time around to help you so easily. He is reliable and could probably fix all of the world’s problems with a lazy wave of his wave, but, but, but, he seemed very much starward on the _Oreo Dilemma_. It’s okay, though. Of course, it’s okay, you will just have to try your best to persuade him. 

If your country ever decides to return to the absolute monarchy, you sure hope your new imperial majesty will be sir Shinsuke Kita. If not, then you hope your captain is thinking about a political career because he is totally the man who could make Japan great again. But maybe, just maybe, taking into consideration how Japan got about becoming great last time, it’s not such a good idea. A frown tugs on your lips. So many war crimes. Way too many war crimes. Would Shinsuke break the Genova Conventions? Huh, that’s a good conversation topic for when there is an awkward silence. 

As you pass next to Osamu, he stops you with a light tap and arches his eyebrows up at you, looking for any sight of injury? discomfort? as you roll his eyes. You are not sure what he seeks, but whatever it is, he will not find it. Bokuto may be a bit too bold and reckless, but you doubt he would ever hurt you. 

“Want to have another group hug to make sure I’m okay?” you tease him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He smiles gently at that and pats your head. You open your lips, the emotions in your chest positively sparkling. 

“No way!” you are interrupted by the loathsome voice. Your nose instantly scrunches in disgust and you wriggle yourself from the hug, breathing heavily as everything had to be 

“Gintama, I fucking hate you,” you grind the words out as you shift your gaze towards him. He twists his face in disgust and you hiss, sounding more like a snake than a human. Good, good, you hate to let the hate flow through you, “I hope you fail the year, you asshole.”

“Oh, he is going to,” Rin lazily says, directing Osa’s phone towards the boy, “I’m pretty sure he has volleyball instead of the brain. Or maybe there is just emptiness. The American scientists would love that.” 

You snicker at that, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. Rin’s light eyes meet yours and you see his lips twitching. You shake your head, exasperated but in a good, fondly way before you skip ahead to Shinsuke. 

“Now, now,” Akagi chuckles awkwardly, waving his hand at all of you. You growl at him, continuing on your way, “Don’t be so mean, Rin. I’m helping tutor him, you know? I’m pretty sure he can make it to class 3 in the next year without any problems.” 

Did-did Gintama blush at the words of praise? You bat your eyes, not expecting such an innocent, pure-like expression from him. Who would have thought that he has other emotions than disgust and anger? Not you, that’s for sure. 

“Stop this disgusting simping for Gintama, Akagi,” Rin snorts back. You start to move, wanting to reach Kita and as you pass him, he pats your head gently, causing you to giggle. Akagi, you notice, shakes his head, but RinRin only shrugs, “The only simping we accept in this house is that for [Name].” 

_What._

You stumble in the air and blindly reach for something to keep you from falling down on your face. Thankfully, Aran is just nearby and he has way better instincts than you could ever hope to have. He reaches over to your shoulder, holding it until you find your balance. It takes you a second to steady yourself, but finally do, though Rin’s words are still ringing in your ears. Aran sends you a comforting smile and you can only nod at him with gratefulness, your throat suddenly burned off by the sheer audacity of the noirette.

One day, you swear that he is going to kill you by spewing bullshit like that, even when he doesn’t mean that. Especially when he doesn’t mean that! It started with being adorable and cute, got to the pretty girl, and now you are some kind of goddess people simp to? Can’t he return to calling you Miss Murder or Lady Death? That was much less heart-attack inducing. 

Like, it’s one way for Osa and Tsu, because your friends well, simping, is something you are familiar with, though you call it being overprotective. You are pretty damn sure you simp for them too. But since when Rin was one too?! Is that how friendships work?! Nobody told you, maybe you are doing this whole thing wrong. 

“Watch yourself, pretty boy,” you whisper under your breath, way too cowardly to look back to see his expression. You continue on your way, stumbling clumsily before your hands catch the back rail of Shinsuke’s chair. Your captain sends you a concerned gaze but you wave his worries off with an awkward smile. 

He arches his eyebrow up, not believing you in the slightest. Well fuck you, this whole _persuading_ thing is not starting very well. Nervously, you bite down on your lower lip, really wishing that talking was easier. Why are you even so anxious? You talked with Shinsuke so many times. He helped you so many times. He is reliable. He is nice. He is wonderful. You probably don’t deserve the amount of respect and kindness he gives you so easily. At the bare minimum, you know that he will hear you out and judge the situation fairly. 

“Is something wrong?” he questions you in an even tone, repositioning himself slightly so he can look at you better, “You look a little pale, [Name].” 

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, your smile ever so strained, because you are not fine. He narrows his eyes sharply at you, probably seeing what an awful liar you are and you curse under your breath. 

“Rin’s right, no simping for anyone but [Name], Akagi,” Osamu agrees with the noirette and they bump each other’s fists as the silverette slides down to his chair. You feel his questioning gaze on your figure and you cock your head slightly, fingers curling around the chair’s rail even tighter. 

“You are both so embarrassing,” Atsu comments, stepping closer to Bokuto and patting his way in the way you cannot really call gently with a clear conscience, “And way too bold. Same for you, Bokkun. No more attacking [Name], okay?”

“Stop teasing me, bastards,” you sigh loudly, shaking your head, “You know, why do you call people simps? Like, the Dulcinea effect is a thing too. Wouldn’t it be much cooler sounding? Wait, that’s not what I wanted.” 

Yeah, you actually have a business to attend to! Why are they annoying you now? Can’t they see you are busy? 

“The Dulcinea effect?” Rin questions and you scrunch your nose, ready to get into the lecture mode, but the middle blocker is faster than you, “You know, you look so adorable when you are about to tell me how stupid I am, pretty girl.” 

He winks at you.

_He winks at you._

Suddenly, you are very glad that you are holding that damn railing. You are pretty damn sure without it, you would be already on the floor, dead. 

“Dulcinea was the character in Don Quixote,” the sharp tone of Shinsuke comes to you like through the glaze, “I believe it’s a somewhat ironic name for the trope in which male heroes fight for the honor of the lady they just met.” 

Seriously, how can he say things like that with a straight face? How does anyone say things like that with a straight face? It’s so embarrassing, and if you didn’t know better, you would think he is mocking you. He is not, he said so himself, but still, you can’t help feeling way too warm on those words. 

“You mean the original simps,” Rin nods, not even a little bit red, before he narrows his eyebrows, “How do you even spell _that?_ ” 

“I hate you all,” you inform all of them as you remember how to breathe after those embarrassing words. Rin snickers and exchanges another fist bump with Osamu to your surprise. What are those idiots doing? With further consideration, you don’t want to know. 

You click your lip and dip down toward Shinsuke, one of your hands holding your hair back, “Shin-chan, can I talk with you for a second in private?”

A momentary silence takes the reign of your table. You feel so many gazes that you can’t help rocking on your feet nervously, waiting for his answer. 

Shinsuke doesn’t blink and you feel your nose wrinkle with worry for a hot second before pink specks of dust cover his cheeks. Huh? You bat your eyelashes, not expecting that sort of reaction. You focus your gaze on him and notice his adam’s apple bob down as if he had to swallow something nervously.

But that’s impossible. Shinsuke Kita doesn’t get nervous. You still remember his little tirade on how being nervous is useless back when the two of you meet for the first time. 

“Dramatic gasp,” Rin narrates around the silence and you tilt your head towards him in question. His face is completely blank as he continues, sarcastic edge to his words, “So forward of you, pretty girl, to cheat on me with my own captain-” 

Cheat? Cheat?! You don’t cheat at anything. Not in school, not even in the games. What is with those accusations?! You finished _Skyrim_ on the Legendary Difficulty without any cheat whatsoever. You didn’t even meta-game! Anybody who claims otherwise is a dirty, dirty liar, and their pants should be on fire. 

You huff, puffing your cheeks in clear displeasure at those outrageous allegations, “I don’t do cheating.” 

“Yes, Rin-kun, she does not,” Atsu quickly interrupts, his arm thrown around Bokuto’s shoulder as he drags him back to his chair, “Not that your relationship to [Name] is so close anything she does can be considered cheating. When did you get that deranged idea? Would love to hear that particular story, you pest.” 

That does make you take a step back from Shinsuke. You propel your hands against your waist, your lips twisted into a thin line as you came to understand maybe they are talking about not the same type of cheating and your secret - but you don’t have a secret, of course, nothing to hide there! - is safe. 

“Shut up, Tsumu, let [Name] have friends without being jealous. You are lame,” Sam yawns, dropping his head on the table, “Where is food anyway? How long are we supposed to wait?”

“You jerk, you are the one to talk about jealousy!” 

_Oh_. 

It sounds so normal. So ordinary. Your throat becomes dry, all thoughts about cheating and _Skyrim_ disappearing. The twins always fight, that’s the unforgivable truth of your life. Without any problem whatsoever, they will find a reason to bicker and punch each other. So why do you feel so moved, so happy about something so utterly stupid? Your boys are arguing like always and that makes you so happy you want to sing. 

Damn it all. You are not here for that! You need to, you have to, you _must_ \- 

Ugh. Why is everything so difficult? You want to help Bokuto with this little Headmaster Problem, but you have another concern, the one constantly on your mind that you would like to bring to Shinsuke’s attention. Osamu, you are talking about Osamu. You cannot let him play this time around. He was swaying on his feet and tried to off somebody in a stupid manner! He is not fine. He is so, so not fine. 

With this image in your mind, you poke Shinsuke lightly, bringing him back to life as you repeat your request, “Just a moment of your time, pretty please? Won’t take long, I promise.” 

“Is that about Bokuto?” he questions, raising his eyes to meet yours. Something strange sparkles in them, you notice with a frown, “If so, I don’t think I will change my opinion. I’m sorry, [Name].”

A loud noise resounds in your head as he shatters your heart. Well, fuck. You just got rejected. Do they have some sort of beef that Shinsuke dislikes him so much? He wouldn’t behave so, well, petty otherwise. Does it hurt you to think about your captain as petty? Yes. Absolutely, but as much as you worship him, you know that he is human too and you should have expected that things will not be resolved by simply asking him to change his mind. 

Still, you cannot give up so easily. You have to at least try, even if the thought of trying to persuade him makes you a little bit faint. 

“Well, could you go with me anyway?” you fidget with your legs, tapping stupidly your ankles against each other. You ignore the pain and repeat, a little more desperate this time, “Just a second, I swear. It’s important.” 

You are ready for another rejection, but, to your relief, Shinsuke only nods and stands up from his seat. 

A little huff of air leaves your mouth. Clutching your hand to your heart, you smile sheepishly and utter softly, “Thank you, Shin-chan.” 

He acknowledges your words with another nod, before moving ahead. He doesn’t wait for you to follow, so you quickly dash after him, ignoring the snickering of the team. Or at least, trying to ignore them. It’s a little bit hard when they are so, so stupid. 

You think you preferred them quiet. Maybe then this wouldn’t feel so much like a walk of shame. Why do you keep feeling like a naughty child who is being taken to the headmaster by the teacher? 

“You can come to me with anything and anytime, [Name],” he says as he leads you out of the room, your teams’ eyes lingering on your backs. Strangely, all of the obnoxious guests don’t glare at you and even butler seems more respectful. Well, that’s Shinsuke for you. 

_It certainly doesn’t feel that way right now, but whatever you say, sir,_ you think a little bit unkindly. Are you too harsh on him? Maybe. 

“You are the best, you know?” you giggle awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck, “Sorry to rely on your so much, though. Tell me if I’m annoying, okay?” 

“You could never be,” he instantly answers, words way too rushed. You tilt your head at that, pretty sure that he looked irritated at you just a moment ago. You can’t even see his face, as he continues to move forward without looking back at you. 

Yeah, you are definitely annoying him right now. 

The last thing you hear as you exit the room is Rin snarking, “That's a good kind of simpery, watch and learn, Akagi.”

* * *

You don’t go far, just around the corner. Okay, that’s a lie, but only because this hotel is so fucking big. It takes you several minutes to find a place that is not swarming with people with big, black puffs that collapse under your weight the moment you sit down. 

“I’m drowning,” you whimper, raising your hands into the air, “I’m dying by stupid puffa, how fucking pathetic, I can’t believe this is how I will die out of all possible deaths. It’s so, so lame, oh god, Shin-chan, you cannot say a thing about that to Atsu or Sam, they will never let it go-” 

Your ramble is interrupted by an echo of a melodious laugh. This sound is so gentle, so pretty, that cannot belong to a human. It is an angel’s laugh, but why would angels laugh? Are even they amused by the stupid manner of your death? Wait, does it mean you died?! 

You blink in confusion, still swallowed by the puffa as you feel a tug on your hand. Up, back to the world of the living, you go. You are not met with the face of an angel, but that one belonging to Kita, which is arguably a better picture anyway. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t be sitting down,” he says, the reminiscence of the mirth still on his face, “What did you want to talk about, [Name]?” 

You look around, baffled, as there is no other soul nearby - human or otherwise, which has to mean that this angelic noise, the sound of spring itself, belonged to the captain of your team, the Ruler of the Frozen Mountains himself. 

Whoa, what a nice irony when his laugh could make flowers bloom. 

“Are you alright?” he asks when you continue to gape at him like a complete fool. At least your mouth is not open, so you are safe from swallowing a fly. You are not safe from, though, from how gentle he appears to be towards you.

You giggle awkwardly, drumming fingers of your left hand against your very warm cheek before you put your hands behind your back. Nervously you start to play with them as rushed words leave your mouth, “Y-yup-yup, of course, I am! Y-yeah, so, ha, anyway, thank you, I wanted to-to talk with you about Osamu if you don’t mind!” 

This is strange. Normally, when you are so anxious, your voice becomes weaker and weaker. Now, though, as you stay next to your captain, it is so loud you cringe a bit. Shinsuke doesn’t seem to care, though, his expression returning to the cold mask you know so well. 

“Did something happen? I thought you have made up.” 

Somehow, you are not able to meet his eyes now. Seriously, does Shinsuke have any flaws at all? He sometimes blushes and looks shy, but that can be more seen as something endearing, so you guess he is flawless. That’s so unfair.

But you are a girl on the task and that task is not to drink as much as you can, because you are still underage. One day you will drink yourself into a stupor, but not today, Satan. Today, you have to open your mouth and answer this wonderful, perfect being. 

A nervous giggle leaves your mouth, “N-no, we made up and everything- thank you for your advice about Rin, too, but- well, he is looking very, very tired and I don’t think he slept at all, and- Well, do you think you could make him sit today’s match on the bench?”

Maybe you shouldn’t get into the team’s affairs. You know you are their manager in the name only, but you can’t help it. If you can do something to stop Osa from playing this one, one simple game that is not so important anyway, then you will have to try. 

“I know it’s my place to talk about the team and all,” you admit timidly, “But, I know my friends and one match will not change much, right?”

“Those practice matches we play are important for the main line-up mostly because both Osamu and Atsumu had a long break from playing,” Shinsuke informs you, crossing his arms around his chest, “They are both talented players, but even they need time to get synchronized with the rest of the team.”

His words are not sharp at all. They are kind and understanding, and yet, you hate them all the same. They feel like rejection. Like he is slapping you in the face, asking what you are doing, you idiot, you know nothing volleyball, just sit and look pretty- 

It’s eerily similar to what your brother said to you.

The logical part of your mind whispers that is wrong. That is not what he is saying, that is is not what he means, but your heart doesn’t listen, doesn’t want to. You feel hurt by his words. Shinsuke is the one who said you can do everything you want if that’s fun, and yet, he is there rejecting you. 

You bite down on your lip. You promised Bokuto you will take care of that, and you really want to, but now, you don’t think you will be capable of doing that which makes you feel even worse. Maybe Osamu and Atsumu were right all along to not trust you, even a little. 

“[Name],” Shinsuke’s voice causes you to flinch. Whatever he wanted to say becomes an incomprehensible mumble. 

You fidget, but don’t raise your head, too afraid to look at him. An awkward silence stays between the two of you to the point you can discern the sound of his breathing, exhaling loudly, as if trying to calm himself. 

That’s stupid. As you said before, Shinsuke Kita is never nervous, and he is not going to start being nervous because of _you_ of all people. 

“With that said,” he starts ever-so-gently. You jump a little, "I agree that he shouldn’t play if he is not in his best condition. I will talk about this with the coach.”

Is that pity? Normally, you would take this, way too happy to get people’s sympathy, but now, now you don’t want it. 

“A-are you saying that because-” 

“ _Never."_

His voice is so confident when he didn’t even hear all you of your sentence. Your grasp your fingers behind your back and take a deep breath, raising your head to meet his crystal clear eyes. No deception is hiding in them. He just looks so sure, nearly desperate to make you believe him. 

“Okay,” you say small voice, sniffing a bit. You are not crying, you swear, there is just something in your eye, “Thank you, captain.” 

He gazes back at you, hesitantly reaching with his hand to your head. He pats your hair, fingers weaving through your curls in a comforting way. Instantly, you relax, enjoying the affection as he whispers, “No, thank you for your input, Manager.” 

_Manager._

The word sounds so tender, so _right_ coming from his lips, making your previous worries look very stupid now. Seriously, what did you take Shin for? He would never, ever, make you feel the same way your brother did.

_Why are so afraid and nervous? Jeez, [Name], get over yourself._

With that decided, you bring your hand to the one that is still on your head. You take it gently, guiding it from your hair into the air between the two of you and squeezing it lightly. 

“And-and the second thing I want to talk about is Bokuto-san,” breathing slowly, “I know you said you will not change your mind, but can you hear me out, pretty please?” 

“O-okay,” he says instantly, eyes trained on your linked palms. You press it once again, feeling sparkles flaring under your skin at this answer. 

Hastily, you explain the events that brought him to the hotel - how all of it was all your fault, how both Atsu and Bokuto jumped into the river like total idiots, and how valiantly you fought off their hypothermia. He nods slowly at your words, listening intently to every word before sighing heavily.

He did _sigh_. 

You have no idea if that is because of your stupidity or the idiocy of the two idiots, but you don’t think it’s a good signal. _Stil_ l, you think to yourself, your hands interweaved, _I’m going to try my best for the saddest person in Japan. Or the most talented in the art of puppy-eyes person in Japan._

“Please,” you bow your head a little, “Don’t report Bokuto-san to his headmaster. I know I can’t offer much for all you did for me, and I just keep pilling everything on you, but- Well, I will do anything! Please.” 

He lets your hand go, dropping it gently in the air. Nearly instantly, you bring it in front of your chest and bounce on your feet, waiting for his answers. 

“Anything?” he repeats very slowly. 

“Even murder!” you affirm, nodding your head vigorously, “I’m very good at that, just saying.”

And that you are. You know that Shinsuke is not going to take you up on that offer, but still, you can suggest it. You bring your hands together and crack your knuckles, smirking mischievously. See, you even have your evil grin practiced! 

“I don’t need you to murder somebody,” he admits after a second of consideration before he continues, cheeks strangely pink, “I just-it’s more of a request than a demand. I’m not going to call Fukurodani’s headmaster, but I thought -” he stops as if to unsure how to express himself. You blink, waiting patiently with an encouraging smile, “Would you like to, one day, go somewhere with me? 

_Huh?_

That’s it? 

“Just that?” you ask, just to make sure. He nods, looking apprehensive for some reason. You tilt your head, “Like playdate?” 

“Y-yes?”

“Of course I will go with you on a playdate, Shinsuke! Even without you helping Bokuto- wait, that’s not what I mean, don’t change your mind- Are you laughing at me now?! Shin-chan!”

* * *

AND - I have nothing important to say. I love you all, just you know, okay? Thank you for all your support and reading, and all - Hope you enjoyed it asdfghjkl.


	47. Interlude: Just a Pretty Girl II

In the time he was separated from Date [Name], Rin found an important thing nobody dared to share with him before: having a crush _sucks_. He clicks his tongue, still holding distance between himself and the girl of his dreams, not daring to come closer to her even as it breaks his heart. 

She is shivering, for fuck’s sake. He plays with the hem of his hoodie, thinking about offering it to her before he stops in his tracks and fights back a sigh. She rejected his offer before, back when they were on the good terms. Why would she agree to that now? 

Crushes, he observes mindlessly following her with eyes on her hips, are truly awful. They should be stomped to the ground, left to be devoured by crows and vultures. He hates the way she makes him melt with just a single look, a small request, and a quiver of the lip. How the fuck was he supposed to say _no_ to her doe-like eyes? 

Her lips are pursed as she slips on the nearby bench and he cannot help but wonder how they would feel under his own. The thought is stupid as hell taking into consideration the fact that the younger girl doesn’t want as much as look at him, much less kiss him. 

She is just a pretty girl, one of the many, of thousands and millions, so why does he feel so nervous? He looks at her and shit, even in the darkness of the night, illuminated only by the superficial lights of the city, she is fucking gorgeous. 

The word pretty doesn’t give her justice at all. 

She is not his first crush, of fucking course, and she is probably not going to be his last too, so why does it feel so fucking much more difficult with her? Why is everything so much more intense? _Just a stupid crush, Rin,_ he tries to tell himself, _Just a single pretty girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Even in his thoughts, that sounds like a lie. She feels so much more. 

A little tap echoes in the air as she drums her finger against the bench. She has nice hands, he notices mindlessly. They are so much smaller than him and so much softer, with nails devoid of a polish nail, but still enticing on their own. He would want to hold her hand. He feels his cheeks becoming a bit warmer. Fuck. He really, really would want to hold her hand. 

What is he, five? Getting embarrassed about holding a hand with a girl? His former classmates would have a field trip over this. He rubs the side of his neck awkwardly, trying to shake off the bashfulness he suddenly feels. It is difficult to look away from, from her slightly parted lips to the endearing way she crinkles her nose, but he reluctantly tears his eyes away, not wanting to meet her gaze. 

“Suna-san,” she speaks out with a tiny voice, her tone hushed and nervous. There is no way he wouldn’t be able to hear her, though, no matter how quiet her voice was. He swallows a curse, the way she spoke his last name running through his head. She continues nervously with a twist of the lips that is not quite a smile, “S-sit next to me?”

_How about you sit on my lap instead?_

That stupid thought is nearly enough to forget about how utterly crushed he feels about her calling him _Suna-san_ as if she didn’t use to call him fondly _Rin-chan_. It certainly sends a wave of heat, spreading through his body and making it very hard to respond with anything. His eyes mechanically fall towards her legs, her thighs, _and_ \- he curses himself mentally, stopping the train of thoughts. 

_Atsumu will have my head before this night ends_ , he grasps his pack of jelly sticks a little firmer, _That is if Osamu doesn’t get me first. Fucking demons had to make friends with an angel. Couldn’t stay in their cave._

He curses himself inwardly. If somebody asked how he got into this mess, this would be his exact answer: _Hi, I’m fucking Rintarou Suna and I never learned how to think. Forgive me for being stupid._ Just make her laugh at Ginjima, he thought, it always cheers her up. Just call her by what she likes, he thought, it will make her forgive you. Just tug one flower behind her ear, he thought, it will turn her face into that lovely shade of red that you like so much, Rin. 

Only it didn’t. Only it hurt her instead. Only it made her fucking hate him. He should be grateful she wanted to speak with him instead of waiting for him to grovel, but he can’t, because he is not ready for this conversation at all. He has no idea what to say because telling her to date him doesn’t count. 

His shoulders slouch and he reaches with his hand to his pocket. The pack of cigarettes is still there, just next to the easily disregarded lighter. 

Buying them back in the shop was a whim, but it is the one he is very much grateful for. For a second, he even thinks about reaching back to Sayuri and thanking her profoundly for offering him smoke all those years ago. It disappears quickly, though, mostly because he remembers that his former girlfriend’s name was Sayuki. 

Not his brightest moment. 

Not that he has a lot of bright moments lately. 

He feels her eyes at himself. He does his best to hold his expression even, to not let her see how pathetic he truly is. He doesn’t think he is going to survive if she calls him by his last name again. He doesn’t think he is going to survive if she doesn’t call him _RinRin_ soon. 

Isn’t pathetic how much he wants her to? 

The urge to smoke is nearly overwhelming, his nerves tied in such tightly knots that he feels he will never calm down again. His heart in the throat, he looks with corners of his eyes to the [Name] and Rin’s mind becomes blank. 

She takes his breath away. He doesn’t even want to breathe anymore. She can keep all of his breaths, she can keep his heart, and fuck, she can take whatever she wants from him if that means he can continue looking at her. No, shit, he is not simply looking. Rin is full-on checking her out, ogling every part of her body like a smitten teenager. The worst of it all, he is a smitten teenager. 

Her hair, swirling freely against the night sky, seemingly glowing around her pretty face. Ardent eyes, enkindled even further by long, wavy eyelashes, keep burning unendingly into his very soul. Glossy lips, quirked into a worrisome frown. His eyes sink lower and lower, toward her sleek, slender neck marked by a single beauty mark. Then, he lingers on her bosom, before hastily averting his gaze, the blush staining his ears as his thoughts turn sinful. 

[Name] Date is the most beautiful girl to ever walk on the earth, you can’t change his mind. And no, he doesn’t take any criticism, damn it. 

He drops on the bench beside her, very conscious of maintaining the distance between the two of them. [Name] doesn’t let him, though, instantly shuffling closer and looking at his face. He wonders if she likes what she sees, if he could do anything to make her like him more. 

He fights back a sigh, trying not to focus on her trembling shoulders because that will lead him to think about thinking of giving her his hoodie. Thoughts like that are not welcomed in his mind, not when he still remembers how fucking angry she was. 

Who the fuck ever claimed the angry women are _hot_? What is arousing about seeing somebody boiling with anger and hurt? Yeah, he cannot see the appeal at all. He still remembers her face, how betrayed and broken she looked. He doesn’t want to see her hurt. He doesn’t want her to feel hurt.

Was that two days ago? It feels like ages since he saw her smile since he heard her laugh, since-well, fuck. That’s too long already, far too fucking long. Weeks, months, years, centuries, ages. It is so stupid and cliche, but he just wants her lips to curl into a beautiful smile that never fails to steal his heart. 

He should have just agreed with Atsumu and think about what Shinsuke told him more. Maybe even find Osamu and this time take his advice to the heart. But then she heard her go all cute in the hall, and he couldn’t help it. Officially, he has _a thing for catgirls_. At least now he is going to understand all those memes about people wanting genetically engineered catgirls. 

_Catgirl [Name]._

Fuck, he needs a smoke. He feels around his pocket, just making sure the pack of cigarettes is still there, hurling the sticks jelly with his second hand into his free pocket. 

He doesn’t have a habit to smoke, not really. His mother would kill him if she smelled cigarettes on his clothes, citing how harmful it was to the athletes, so he made sure to only smoke in his dorm, mostly with Aiko. 

The thing is, the feeling on the bottom of his stomach is the one he didn’t feel in a very long time. Nervousness, he realizes with a gulp, he feels nervous about talking with a _girl_. Well, isn’t he lucky that Aoki can’t see him now? Just imagining his reaction makes Suna want to jump out of the roof. 

Even without his troublesome upperclassman, Rin could seriously drink the whole bottle of the bleach at this point. Anything to take the edge off, to make him forget that [Name] called him by his last name _again._

He needs to smoke. Fuck, he fucking needs to. This awful feeling of being nervous - pff, what is that, Suna? Are those human emotions? Disgusting - is too much to swallow. He is going to die if he doesn’t and the only thing - or person, rather - stopping him, is [Name], her trembling shoulders more and more concerning every minute. 

Aiko was always so fond of smoking. She always cited those old, stupid films where people always smoked after sex. He cringed at the time, nearly throwing the half-lit cigarette out of his dorm’s window. 

“Don’t pull this face, Rin, you will make every girl run with a frown like,” his former girlfriend teases, stealing the cig with her fingers and taking a long puff out of it. She breathes the smoke out, the white cloud leaving through the window, “You look so much more handsome without it.” 

He wonders if the short girl beside him would find that attractive as well. One way to find out, he supposes, rubbing his thumb across the pack. He doesn’t want to smoke next to her, somehow. He doesn’t want her to breathe the smoke in, doesn’t want it to hurt her and that’s such a pathetic, simp-like thought. Fuck, what is she doing with him? 

He sighs. They have to go back, though, and it doesn’t seem like she can start talking about whatever she wanted to. A small huff of air leaves his mouth and he opens it with her name leaving his lips at the same time as she calls his last name. He officially hates this fucking world. 

“Suna-san -” 

“[Name] -“

He holds in the frown from forming on his face. It sounds so wrong, coming from her. It should be banned by the law for her to call him that or something. He catches her [color] irises with his own. He can’t take this anymore, fuck. 

“Sorry,” he says genuinely, only it sounds so wrong, so disinterested, so sarcastic. That’s unfair. He is really fucking sorry, sorry about so many things, from how he cannot hold his thoughts in check to how lowly he thought of her. She deserves better, so much better, but he can’t even offer her apologies that she deserves, “I think I will explode if I don’t.”

He takes his lighter and pack of cigs, opens them, and takes a single cigarette out. He pockets the rest of the cigs back, but before he can lit up the lighter, cold fingers curl around his wrist. 

He blinks, but the hand wrapped around his cuff remains there, still holding it even as it way too small to go around all of it. It can only belong to one person and yeah, one quick glance directs him towards [Name], cheeks puffed and lips twisted into a pout. An adorable crinkle appears at her nose and he wished he could just kiss it off her face. 

This is probably not the best to think about when she seems to be pissed. He returns his gaze to her small, delicate hand that is still around his wrist and he can’t help but think how much better it would look wrapped around - _the bible_ , yeah, the bible, praise the Lord, amen. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hisses, the fire sparkling up in her eyes and whoa, so this is why people think angry women are hot. He is taking everything back, because, yeah, that sudden attractiveness doesn’t help in the slightest, “Do you know how bad it is to smoke, Rin? You are _an athlete_.”

_Go away, horny thoughts. Rin, fuck, think about, about, anything, fuck, not the way she bites her lip or - fuck, think about mom. She always nags you just in the same manner, that’s not sexy at all._

This is the worst time ever to think about his mom of all people. He can’t fucking win at all. He swallows, trying to calm his beating heart, but it’s hard when she is still touching him, her hand is still there. As lovely as they are, her fingers are dangerously cold. They should return to the hotel already before she catches a cold. 

“You sound like my mom,” Rin says, wanting to end this conversation as fast as he can, “Please, don’t sound like my mom, that will make things way too awkward.”

That-that-that. Fuck. He didn’t want to say that. It just escaped his mouth. Nervously, he looks back to [Name], but she doesn’t seem to notice his bluster, too focused on-fuck, fuck, fuck, she pulls his hand towards herself and he cannot fight, will not fight, doesn’t ever want to fight to her. 

He lets her do what she wants, because how could he not? He _craves_ her. Her touch sends sparkles dancing under his skin and sends his heart into the rollercoaster-worthy ride. He wants to be closer to her, he wants so much of her and that’s so fucking unfair of him to demand when he hurt her already. 

Then, her nails pierce his skin and a hiss leaves his mouth, more from surprise than pain. Automatically, he looks back at her, and once again, he loses himself in her image. Her fingers, so cold before, are burning into his skin, marking it. Awfully stupid thought _I will never wash my arm again_ crosses his mind before he can shrug it. 

It takes all of his power to not blush madly like a stupid, hormonal teenager under her fierce gaze. Thanks fuck, he can shrug most of his embarrassment, focusing on her and her only. As she watches him, various emotions cross her face, ranging from anger to pain and then to sorrow. He swallows with difficulty, absolutely hating how hurt she looks, how much he hurt her. This is not an expression he ever wants to see on her face. 

“After you hear me out, do whatever you fucking want. I will not sit around in smoke and choke on it with you,” she says angrily, shaking her head and looking ready to cry. Rin doesn’t register those words at all. The only he can focus on are tears that edge in the corners of her eyes. 

What the hell is he supposed to do if she cries? 

He has absolutely no idea. He goes through the mental list of girls he knows, but every time somebody started to sob, be it his girlfriend or his stupid little sister, he just left the room, too tired to deal with this bullshit. 

He cannot leave the room this time. Mostly because there is no room to leave, but that’s not the only reason. He cannot even lie to himself - he doesn’t think he would be able to forgive himself if he left her crying alone. He doesn’t think he would be able to live anymore if he left her alone in the dark, with only her thoughts. 

Before he can find a response, she lets go of his hand, eyes flaring with anger. Once more, he finds himself short of breath. His eyes trail down, the red markings of her fingers imprinted on his skin. He misses her touch how mean-spirited it was supposed to be, so, yeah, never washing it. 

“Was it fun?” she asks him suddenly, her hands shaking. He quirks his eyebrow, not knowing what she is talking about. It would feel wrong to ask her that, though, somehow disrespectful. The last thing he wants is to make her even angrier. So what the hell is he supposed to answer? 

He is going to need those damn cigarettes so fucking much. He nervously taps the unlit cig against his knuckles. How much easier all of it would be if he could just smoke a bit. He fights back a sigh and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. 

“There are not many things I find fun in this dull life,” he responds carefully, his fingers fidgeting with an unlit cigarette. It’s a safe answer, he thinks, nice answer. It doesn’t show how shaken he is, how pathetically in love he is. 

His eyes widen. 

Did he just think he is in love? Rintarou Suna knows that love exists. He sees the way his father looks at his mother, remembers a bruise on his cheek after the girl’s boyfriend hit him, notices the twins tripping over themselves for Date. 

He is not like them. He is absolutely not in love. Having a crush and being in love is so much different. He cannot be in _love_. He doesn’t look at her with sheer adoration, doesn’t walk wanting to punch people, doesn’t bend to her every wish-

\- but fuck, he does, he absolutely does and he is absolutely in love. 

“So why?” he hears her voice coming through the mist. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand anything, too caught up in this web of emotions. 

_He is in love._

Fuck. 

“We no speak Americano,” he answers, his throat dry. All of his movements are automatical; the way he breathes, the way he speaks, the way he pockets his cig back. Rin is in love, he is in love, _he is in love_ , “I’m an asshole at heart, I guess.” 

When the fuck did that happen? She was just a crush, just a pretty girl. How did she become so important? Nothing is simple now. She is not a girl he flirts with to annoy the twins. He is in love with her. That fucking sucks. 

She whispers something back. It feels like affirmative, a curt nod, but he doesn’t hear, too caught in this familiar-unfamiliar feeling. Something delicate and beautiful grows in his chest - only it always was there, watchful and silent, waiting for him to discover it. It’s a flower, stupidly stuck behind her ear. It’s a matcha pocky falling to her mouth, melodious laugh resounding in the air. It’s the smile she gave somebody else, kind and patient. It’s a joke she spoke up, her eyes glimmering. It’s a curse she spoke the day he met her. 

He turns his head, his gaze resting on her [color] irises and she is so, so beautiful. He could spend hours doing nothing but watching, admiring and it still would not be enough. The promise of infinity shines in her slightly damp eyes, even as he knows no fascination, no love can last forever. 

He wants nothing more than let this confession roll through his tongue, to let those words be spoken because she has to, _she has to_ know-

He feels his eyebrows furrowing when the thoughts stop. _Damp_ eyes? Suddenly, she averts her face and he can see it no longer as she reaches with her small fingers to the corners of her eyes and wipes them from _tears_. 

Everything shatters as she parts her cherry lips and her words, like flames, dance atop of his arms, “Thank you for your time, Suna-san. I will no longer take up your time.”

It sounds like a goodbye.

His heart sinks even further, down and down, to the deepest depths of hell. He is set on fire, being burned alive, his traitorous soul abandoning his body and saving itself. [Name] sends him the last tear-stained gaze before she stands up and leaves him behind, about to be swallowed by the sea of fire she ignited by herself. 

This is not how he imagined his death to be. 

Rin longed for death for so long - sometimes he still does, having trouble swallowing water and breathing another breathe. Everybody dies, so it doesn’t matter how much you tried, how much you achieved, how much you failed. Why should he try to go after her? Why shouldn’t he just let her go, disappear in the stars where she belongs? 

He can find another person. A girl who will not care whose name he moans. A girl who will understand when he flirts. A girl who doesn’t break when he does something stupid. A girl so much easier, so less troublesome. It will be easy, no bother at all. 

Illuminated by the moonlight, her movements graceful, seemingly flowing in the night. She doesn’t even look back, going away and away from.

He can’t let her. He doesn’t want anyone else. He is in love with this pretty girl and he doesn’t want another one. 

He leaps before he can think any further, dashing madly after her. At this point, he doesn’t care that she called him that again. At this point, he doesn’t care about looking like a fucking idiot. At this point, he has trouble caring about anything, anything at all, just her slender figure leaving him behind, forever. 

She is not far, but somehow, it feels like she is just out of his reach. Still, desperately he brings his hand to her wrist, fingers curling gently around it. He tugs delicately, not daring to use any force against [Name], never against her, fuck. 

She stops, thanks hells, but doesn’t say anything, and Rin, for what feels like the first time in his entire life, doesn’t know what to say. Of course, he doesn’t. His wit always leaves him the moment he needs it. 

But she shivers and trembles, and he needs to say anything, anything at all-

“Wait, fuck, no,” the words escape his mouth and it takes him a second to understand that he is pleading with her, offering everything he can. How pathetic he has to sound in her ears. How much must she hate him for that? How much hurt she has to feel because of him? 

Can he even fix it? Does he deserve to fix it? He wants to beg her forgiveness, to not leave him, to give him just one more chance, he will do better, and most importantly, to _not cry anymore_. 

“Fuck you, Suna,” Osamu said back then, tone mocking and cold. Rin remembers that glare, more intense than Kita’s and angrier than the devil’s, “Apologize to [Name] or she will hate you forever, asshole.” 

It’s so fucking selfish of him, to want to keep her in his life after he caused her to nearly cry. He doesn’t deserve any forgiveness. He deserves a punch in the gut, a slap to the face, kick in the crotch. Anything, really. He can take it all, he will take it all gladly, as long as it not this. 

He inhales sharply, mentally preparing himself to answer, but before he can, a broken voice does, “I don’t want to play your sick games anymore. You made enough of a fool out of me. Let me go, Suna-san.”

There were games, that’s true. In the beginning, when she was nothing more than the way to play with the twins, and then with Kita, but now only his bleeding heart remains. 

He thinks he could give her everything she wants, be it a simple pack of Pocky or the stars. That one thing she asks of him, he cannot - _doesn’t want_ \- to give her, though. Maybe if he was a better man, maybe if he was less greedy, then he would. 

If he lets her go now, he is not going to see her ever again, and how selfish, how fucking greedy he is for holding her back. 

“Fuck off, Suna-san,” she repeats the curse in the tone barely holding out the tears, and he regrets that he cannot grant her this simple request. If he lets her go now, he is not going to see her ever again, and how selfish, how fucking greedy he is for holding her wrist.

“Fuck,” he starts, but stops as he notices a shiver going through her body. That’s an awful way beginning, Rin, good-fucking-job, fuck, “Fuck, [Name]-,” he stammers, remembering her words from the morning, “No, fuck it, Date-san, I have no idea what you were talking about. I’m so damn stupid. Fuck, Osamu was right from the beginning.”

The younger of the Miya twins’ eyes are still haunting him. His words still are running through his head and he wonders if Osamu placed a curse at him back then. He probably did, the fucking demon that he is. 

He takes another deep breath, fingers grazing her soft skin. Her wrist looks so small, so delicate, so fragile, and he feels something wrenching in his chest as he says, the tone as even as he can muster, “Date-san, please, I’m - “

Those are wrong words to say. 

She crumbles like a house from cards, first sobs escaping her mouth, and then another, and another, and another, and _another_ -

And he can’t do anything, just watching her weeping, fingers tightly coiling around her cuff. He observes blanky as [Name] tries to rub tears off with her free hand and he comes to understand that she is embarrassed. Worse, the mortification hits, she feels humiliated by him. 

A wave of well-known self-hatred hits him, nearly taking him off his feet. He caused this. He fucking did to the girl he likes, to the girl he loves, to the girl who-

“Stop fucking lying,” she cries out, wrestling his grip, “Just fucking let me go and - I knew from the beginning! It was too fucking good, and I should have known better, and well, now I do! I know you are an asshole who was using me to not feel bored! Well, fuck off, I will not let - I will not - not again - “

He bites his tongue, stopping himself from saying something stupid. 

A part of him wants to demand the names of the people who dared to _hurt_ her so much that she still feels so unworthy of everything. He can’t, not now, not when he reduces her to tears. Sobs are escaping her small body with difficulty as she hiccups and weeps, completely _lost_. The image is heartbreaking. It is soul-wrenching. Worst of all, it makes Osamu right and him, even the bigger fool who hurt her more and more until she broke. 

He wants nothing more than to pull her into his chest, to take her pretty face in his hands, wipe away the tears and promise that nothing will ever happen to her. He craves to offer her any sort of comfort, but words fail him and he cannot, he does not deserve to touch her without permission. 

So what the hell can he do? 

“I’m sorry,” he rushes the words from his mouth before he stops and repeats her last name, cinders and ash on his tongue, “Date-san.” 

She stays quiet, her shoulders trembling and awful thought runs through his mind: he is too late. He is too late and he lost her - but how can he fucking lost something that never belonged to him in the beginning? For a blink of the eye, he thinks of letting her go, his nerves fractured. His fingers slide through her skin, caressing it lightly. 

She turns around suddenly and his breath hitches because fuck, fuck, fuck, she is simply stunning even with tears running down her cheeks. Her slightly reddened nose, her cheeks blushed in lovely rose, the desperation and vulnerability she shows - all of those things make him completely lose his mind. Does he have dacryphilia now? 

_Fuck, way too be creepy, Rintarou._

“Fuck,” he curses mindlessly before catching the growing anguish in her eyes. He fixes his grasp on her wrist, holding her a little bit tighter, refusing to let go as he quickly adds, “No, that’s not what I meant.” 

She is in pain and he hates that, but dear gods, she is so lovely, so beautiful, so pretty. Nevertheless, seeing the anguish in her sorrowful eyes is the worst thing that happened in his life and yeah, he is counting the meeting with twins or having a sister. 

She tries to pull her wrist free and it’s physically hurting him to continue clutching it, but he - he had doubts already, he can’t back down, as much as easier it would be. He wants her in his life. He wants her obnoxious laugh and her murder talk, he wants everything she is willing to give. 

“I’m sorry, Date-san, I - I never wanted to make you think I don’t care about you. Fuck, I’m such an asshole,” he says, nerves making me stutter as if he was a stupid teenager in love, and fuck him because he is one, “I - fuck, emotions are hard, but I _do_ care about you.” 

_I care too fucking much. I wish I could care less_ , he thinks as her burns into him, flames still flaring even when she cries. He breathes out, fighting back the urge to smoke, as words escape his mouth, “Please, please don’t cry, I have no idea what to do - fuck, hey, Miss Murder, pretty girl?”

_I will donate my liver to you. Or fuck that, take all of my organs. Just don’t cry anymore, please, [Name]._

“You like me?” she asks and the ground shakes under his feet, because fuck, fuck, fuck, she knows, but then she continues, still oblivious to his feelings, “You didn’t want to make fun of me?”

His mind screams at him to answer instantly, but he holds his emotions in, not letting both frustration and relief appear. Does she even know what she does to his heart as she bites down on her lip, nibbling at it in such an attractive manner? She does not, of course, she does not and he doesn’t if that should make him exasperated and happy. 

She is so fucking dense. She is so fucking adorable. That, he supposes fondly, is one of her many charms that comes out handy whenever somebody shows interested in her.

Like that Kageyama kid. He nearly twists his lips in a frown at the memory of the kid and his damn flowers. Fucking kid. Fucking Miyagi. Pettily, he blames the black-haired boy, even as he did nothing wrong. Oh, wait, he did. He held [Name]’s hand before him. That’s unfair and he didn’t learn anything at all since the memory of Kageyama’s hand into her own sparks jealousy in his chest. 

Again, he is thirteen years old kid with a crush who just want to hold hands. He wonders if she would let him. Well, only one way to find out. He drops his gaze to her wrists and gently, he lets go of it. He doesn’t let go of her, though, he never wants to. Instead, he offers her his hand to hold. Maybe that can bring can her a little bit of comfort or solace. 

“Fuck no, never,” he tells her without hesitation, making sure to put all of his feelings in the answer. She still looks unsure, hurt, so he continues, “Listen, Date-san, the thought of you being hurt pisses me enough to want to punch somebody. The fact I am the one who fucking hurt you makes that complicated, so feel free to punch me anytime. I deserve it.”

She doesn’t, which is a big surprise taking under consideration how much he deserves it. He nearly wishes she did

“[Name],” she says, voice soft and so, so lovely, as she places her hand at his, “Friends call me by my first name.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his beating heart. He is barely able to hold himself together as he takes her fingers slowly into his palm. The last thing he wants is to spook her or to pull away. He needs her touch like an arsonist needs a fire. 

He doesn’t know what wrong is with him. 

Oh, wait, he does. 

He is so in love with her it _hurts._

Her hand is just as lovely as he imagined it to be. Silken skin, tiny fingers that wrap themselves around his palm. He years to pull her closer, to whisper he doesn’t want to be only a friend here and now, but he can’t, not when there are still tears in her eyes. 

She gives him forgiveness and acceptance so easily. It’s not fair, not fair for her at all, but he launches himself at it, grasping it greedily. It’s like seeing the sunrise for the first time after spending years living in darkness. Like taking the breath after being underwater for far too long. Like hearing a gentle song after a long silence. 

He doesn’t want to let go, ever.

He stabilizes his breath and his heart, as their conversation continues, words exchanged much more calmly. Their hands stay linked, but he finds himself longing for more. He looks to [Name], the tears are still on her face. Does he even deserve to want more? 

For somebody so dense, [Name] sees his discomfort easily enough, the tease coming from her mouth in such adorable way that he can’t help but stumble through awkward, but bold request. But, is it really bold? He can think of so much many bolder things he offers-

_Horny thoughts, you are so fucking annoying._

She nods. 

She fucking nods and he swears he could lift her off the ground and twirl her around from the sudden joy he feels. He wonders if she would like that, but disregards the thought quickly, desperate to eliminate the space between him and [Name]. He closes the distance between them, stepping closer until he can wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her even _closer_. He feels her forehead resting on his chest and he ponders if she can hear his heart. 

His heartbeat accelerates, faster and faster until he is sure it will leap from his chest. He doesn’t he would mind, dying like that. He doesn’t think he would mind like at all.

He breathes in slowly, the elation giving him wings. 

More and more. People always want more. His good buddy, Schopenhauer, said so and Rintarou trusted the old man all of his life, and yet, when she [Name] pulls closer, her small hand still in his he can’t imagine what more he could ever want. 

_Let us stay like that forever_. 

Oh, that. Makes sense. 

“That’s the worst hug ever,” she teases him, voice lighter than summer’s sun. His lips twist and he loses himself in the melody of her voice, “Not recommending, two out of ten.” 

It’s pathetic, how how much in love he is. He swallows, taking in all of the sensations. The coldness of her smooth fingers, the fragrance of cotton candy mixed with the smell of salty popcorn lingering around her face, the seraph-like expression on her face. He is not going to go back, he can’t go back now, his mind repeating her name again and again with adoration. 

The answer rolls his tongue easily and they fall into an easy banter, her lips quirking and fuck, he loves her smile, he loves her laugh, he loves everything about her. The feeling in his chest feels like a drug and he is already addicted to her. He doesn’t want to seek treatment from this new sensation. Therapy? Fuck that. He is an addict now. 

All of sudden, her finger boop his nose, sparking a flame across his cheeks. His breath comes out short and he follows her giggle, casting his eyes down toward her face. He finds her on her tip-toes with rosy cheeks and tears clinging to her half-closed eyes. If Rintarou didn’t know better, he would think she is tempting him.

_And it’s working way too well._

He wants to trace his finger along the outline of her face, feel the softness of her skin against his thumb, see the way her eyes become lidded from the rapture, and lean down, savoring the taste of velvet lips under his own. Then his hand could go down, linger on her thighs and-

He never thought that kisses had any sort of taste. They were bland, if pleasurable experiences for him, but he can’t stop thinking that he is sure her lips would be sweet. Or spicy. Or sweet and spicy at the same time. 

It would be so easy to do. Lean down, place a candy-like kiss on her lips, and then, he would ask her out, just like that, confessing his yearning under the starry sky of Tokyo ( _only there are no stars visible in the sky_ ). 

He can imagine it all too well. Going on dates with her, taking her all of those cliche places he used to hate so much. Spending mornings in the bed, her smile waking him up. Placing his hands on her hips, pulling her into embraces whatever he wants. Telling other people to get the fuck away from _his_ pretty girl. 

If she rejects him, then he just has to get over those stupid feelings, find somebody else - somebody less enchanting, less ravishing, less angelic, less than _[Name]_. He can do it, probably. Still, there is, even a small one, that she will say yes- 

Wait. 

What if she agrees because she doesn’t want to hurt him? What if she agrees because she is scared he will leave if she doesn’t? What if she agrees because she thinks that nobody else will ever want her? 

Fuck, he cannot do this. 

This is not what he wants. He wants to be with her, hold her hand, kiss her good morning, offer her his arm, and hug her. He wants to see her grasping the sheets with her fingers, whimpering with pleasure with that sweet voice of hers. _But most importantly_ , he wants her to want it too. He wants her to feel the same. He wants her to kiss him out of her volition. He wants her to interlace their hands together on her own. He wants her to desire him the same way he desires her. 

That’s not happening, not now, when she is so, so fragile and still hurt. She is so desperate for friends, for trust, for anything she can hold in her small hands. 

He is in love with her.

But she is not in love with him. 

_Well, another one bites the dust_ , he thinks dryly to himself, bittersweetness rolling in his stomach as he gets friend-zoned. 

* * *

As she watches her smiling brightly in his hoodie. He hopes she doesn’t see blood coming from his nose that he hastily wipes. 

Okay, so now he only has to persuade her for a selfie.

* * *

I know it's not Valentine's Day, but tbh, that chapter is pretty much like Valentine Special. I know some people were interested in his POV during this chapter, so, well, here you go, Rin simping over MC for over 6k :') Hope you enjoy this little break ~ Thank you for reading!


	48. In which you confirm that coffee is evil (and coal-eyed boys should burn).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is easily towering over everyone in Starbucks, sending the dark aura of death and destruction worth of the best hitman in the world or of the serial killer that police looks for since the eighties. Does it mean he is immortal like Washijo? Well, you don’t know, but you can’t help but think that he wouldn’t hesitate to stab a bitch who got too close to his personal space.

The water hitting your palms is freezing. You hiss in surprise, stopping whatever you were trying to say and nearly dropping your Kakashi into the sink as you take your hands away. Okay, you expected it to be a bit chilly, not the freaking Antarctic seawater. 

You click your lips in horror and quickly turn off the tap. The thing you have learned today: the rich-ass hotel is cutting down on the hot water, good to know. 

With apprehension, you try the second faucet. You watch the water falling down with suspicion for a second and then, at the moment the enemy is not ready, throw your unoccupied hand into the stream. 

“Wait, [Name], you have a date?!” Atsumu shouts out, scandalized. You bat your eyelashes, dropping your Kakashi mascot into the sink at the same moment as he wants into your room’s bathroom, behaving as if he owned the damn place, “What do you mean you have a date? What do you mean by date? I do not consent to any of that!” 

You respond by moving your palm out of the water and spurting the droplets of water clinging to your fingers at him. You giggle as he bristles at the missiles, looking very much like a cat with wide, scared eyes. He really should be glad it’s only water, not sulfuric acid. 

With him taken care of, your hum, taking the expensive soap the staff of the hotel provided and starting the slow process of scrubbing Kakashi of a dirty river. You will do everything to get rid of this awful stink from your gift. _Yeah, exactly_ , you think to yourself, _It is a present from Atsu-chan and deserves better._

Not to even start about how both he and Bokuto nearly died for this poor imitation of your favorite anime character. You are not going to give up just because this stupid rich hotel doesn’t pay its bills -Kakashi is going to be cleaned. You are not leaving him all stinky and fugly. 

Lucifer only knows what those Tokyo people throw into the water anyway. At least back in the Kansai, all of you just get cursed by Colonel Sanders by dumping his statue into the canal. Dumb inhabitants of Tokyo city probably hurl knives and guns, and bodies into the water. Amateurs, just get acid but do your best not to get your transaction trackable. 

“This water is so cold, [Name]-chan,” Atsu moans as he rubs his cheeks with both of his hands. You snicker before turning back to your daunting task, “Wait, wait, wait, you are not going to distract me! What do you mean you are going on a date with Kita, of all people?!” 

Atsumu’s selective hearing strikes again. This is not what you have said at all! A nervous titter escapes from your lips and you can’t help but wonder once again how exactly did your friend survive all those years. You finally conclude that his survival is a probably bigger miracle than the one at Fatima. 

“He moves fast,” Rin drawls lazily from behind the door, presumably making himself comfortable on your couch, “Didn’t think he would be my biggest rival of all people, you know, with him being a robot and all.” 

You don’t lift your eyes from your Kakashi, focusing all of your energy towards sponging your little ninja warrior. He is much more important than all those silly problems that your friends imagine. Seriously, you on the _date_ with Shinsuke? You doubt there is a human being who deserves to stand on equal footing as Shinsuke’s partner and _l-l-lover_. 

The word _lover_ stubbornly echoes through your head, sending you into a spiral of anxiety. You wonder, trying to shake the blush of your cheeks. Would Shinsuke even want to date someone? It is really hard for you to picture him having a significant other. What sort of person would he be into, anyway? Maybe some sort of queen or king? No, wait, you hate monarchy. Maybe another person with the Nobel Prize? Did you just imagine Shinsuke with Obama? _No, yes, maybe._

“What drugs are on, Sunarin?” Osa questions in your stead, “Your dealer is giving you some wild ones.” 

Wait, is Rin really doing drugs? He is a smoker already and you can never be sure about people who smoke. The noirette doesn’t answer, though, and soon enough you feel his light eyes creeping up towards you, “He is joking, pretty girl.” 

You giggle nervously again. Are you so easy to read? If your rosy cheeks are anything to go by, then yes. 

Atsumu uses your distraction, stepping closer as he pouts childishly. You tilt your head in silent question and see him placing his arm on your head, “I wanted to be the first person to take you on a date, sunshine.” 

Bold words coming from somebody treating you like his personal handrest. You sigh loudly, trying to shake him off, but failing miserably. 

“It’s a playdate, TsuTsu,” you fix Tsu’s sentence, lacing your words with as much disgust as you can, “And I’m not even going to comment on that because I’m pretty sure you and Sam-chan were my first playdate.” 

Your parents, after all, didn’t have the precious time in their busy schedules to organize something like that for you or your brother, leaving the two of you to find friends in each other. Yeah, wonder how that turned up. So, yeah, the twins were probably your first playdate, mostly because when Shouko Miya wants something, she gets it and for some reason, she desires for her sons to spend time with you. 

Your parents didn’t stand a chance. 

As you roll your eyes, your eyes end up on the silhouette of Rin once again. He is lazily scrolling through the memes on his phone, yet somehow, the boy notices your subtle stare right away. His lips twist into a cocky smirk as he winks at you, his eyelashes fluttering. Your heart bursts into flames and you avert your gaze back to Kakashi, trying to ignore the way your cheeks reddened. 

Why, oh why, do people keep winking at you? Are you a winkable person? You don’t think so! Before Puffy and Rin, nobody winked at you after all. It is not easy to wink and look so dashing, damn it. What sort of bullshit superpower is the bastard using? You will do your best to pass it over, haha. 

You can’t ignore Atsu’s stupidity, though, resounding in your whole room, “Playdates are for children, [Name]! Samu, tell her!” 

Is that how he wants to play? You scoff at him, before beaming and changing your tone into something more cheerful as you shout over him, “Sam-chan, I bought some zunda mochi back in Sendai, feel free to take a box. It’s in my bag!” 

Atsumu looks back at you with disgust while removing his arm and you send a watery kiss in his direction. Yes, you _bought_ them for Osamu. Yes, you are his _favorite_ friend and he probably will adopt you one day if his mother doesn’t do that first. 

“You bought them for him?” the blond asks with a suspicious edge in his words. You rock on the balls of your feet, doing your best to stifle the nervous chuckle threatening to escape from your mouth as you nod. It is not exactly a lie, to be fair. Your pants are not going to catch fire, even if you are not going to specify that buying them means making other people buy them for you. 

There is no way in hell you are going to confess to your little fake date with Puffy. Atsu had a mental breakdown over a playdate with Shinsuke and you don’t even want to know how he would react when he found out you spent time both with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. 

Though you could probably mention Zizi, he was cool for somebody who associates with this kind of trash. When you think about it, shouldn’t you thank Shittykawa for helping you make up with Rin? You probably should, fuck. You scrub Kakashi’s hair with soap a little bit harder. You are not looking forward to it, no matter how much he helped you. 

“Thanks, darling. I was angry at myself for not getting them,” Osamu comments tenderly as he shuffles to your bag, seeking the snacks, “Should have expected that you would buy them, ‘cause you are the best.” 

His warm affection is not welcome here at all. You blush at the praise, fidgeting a little. How about not thinking about that compliment? Yeah, you like this solution so you just put the soap back and start rinsing Kakashi from the bubbles. 

You hope it is going to be enough to get rid of the odor of the river. Dear Lord of Darkness, you hate rivers very much. Who even put them in the middle of the city?

“Not that, Samu, you traitor,” the blond shuffles awkwardly. He ruffles your hair before stopping back, embarrassed. It’s not hard to see the way he blushed at your earlier proclamation, the overgrown child, “You don’t go on playdates in high school, sunshine, you are too old for them.” 

You snort at the sheer audacity he possesses. That rusty bike is calling you _old,_ even though he is a year older. You take your Kakashi out of the stream and turn off the water, “We’re still children, you know, Atsu-chan,” you sigh loudly, throwing an appraising gaze at him, “What the fuck are you all doing in my room anyway? Get out, freeloaders, I’m busy.” 

Oh, you cursed, fuck. You flinch, your lips twisting, but you don’t hear anybody being angry at you for that, so, you guess Bokuto doesn’t mind much or didn’t hear you. 

“You are far too naive, [Name],” Atsu snarks dramatically as he moves back, placing hands on his hips, “Kita is nearly eighteen. You are way too young to go on any sort of date with him without supervision! Do you even know what eighteen years old men do on the dates?!” 

No, no, no, and you don’t want to find out. You drop your gaze, really, really wishing he is not going to educate on that matter. 

“Oh my god. Wait, no, the god is dead, fuck. Nietzsche, buddy, I’m sorry that I forgot,” you hear Rin’s exasperated sigh before a loud noise of the body hitting the floor attacks your ears, “I’m fine, no matter how much I try to commit sudoku. What an awful fate, but yeah, anyway, Atsumu, you are talking about fucking Kita. Do you think he would do anything? _This_ Kita? The ruler of the freezing hell?” 

“I’m the same age as him and Rice Cracker-kun,” Bokuto pops out his head from behind Atsu, smiling widely, “You are younger than me, Choco-chan? You are so reliable and responsible, though! I would never think you are younger!” 

What is this shit? The National Embarrass [Name] Day? You don’t like how many compliments are going your way today, you don’t like it at all. You flush furiously, focusing on your mascot even harder. 

You bring it close to your face and sniff it hesitantly. The only smell you catch is the rose fragrance of the soap, so you guess you did a good enough job. Frowning, you move away from the sink and you notice that Kakashi is dripping water on the floor. Oopsie, you gonna ignore that too- 

“I’m sixteen,” you answer honestly, not seeing Atsumu’s raised eyebrow. Technically, you are sixteen, so you are not lying and if he dares to claim otherwise, he should be ready for swift retribution, “Why are you in my room, again? Go back to yours, sho-sho, you idiots.” 

You place Kakashi on your bathtub, leaving him there to dry as you wonder why the fuck would you need both tub and shower. Your hotel is just like Inarizaki - it spends way too much money on the things that don’t matter at all, ignoring important problems like cold water in the sink. 

“She is only fifteen, the liar,” Atsu answers Bokuto, who looks back at you with a betrayed expression. You poke blond with your finger exactly in the ribs, causing him to hiss in pain before he continues, “A year younger than us, but her birthday is soon-” 

You pass them over, not keen on hearing any more slander and facts. You hate how Atsumu reminded you about the worst day of the year. Birthday, ugh, you don’t want to think about your birthday at all. You move to the main room and stride to your couch. 

“You are so adorable, [Name], you still are young enough to not understand that every year brings us closer to death,” Rin comments dryly and you roll your eyes, trying to not blush even more. Seriously, you are getting too many compliments today! What is wrong with them all? 

Do you even want to know why Rin is on the floor instead of being on the couch? No, you probably don’t. You sigh, avoiding him as you plop down on the couch. Your body bounces on the couch thinking about how this circus became your life: being cautious not to step on the body left on the floor all the time. It was not left even for right, homicidal reasons.

“Maybe I do and this is why I try to pass as someone older? You know, being closer to death and all that?” you wonder aloud, looking down at his figure. He smirks at you in a strange manner, the one that is nearly flirtingly, but you know better, it’s not, “Let me be sixteen if I want to. What’s wrong with passing for someone older, huh?” 

Truly, you think while you pout, the warmth spreading through your chest, your life is totally the worst. 

“You are so damn cute,” Rin repeats mercilessly from the floor. You try your best to look unimpressed, but it’s hard with those damned cheeks of yours. 

The couch shifts under another weight as Osamu takes a seat beside you, munching on zunda mochi, the pack Puffy paid for in his hand. He places one of the snacks on your lips, humming lightly. You part your lips and you push it with your tongue into your mouth quickly, just in case he changes his mind. Osamu doesn’t look salty about that, though, he only sends you a beautiful smile. 

A content hum leaves your mouth and you rub your cheeks, feeling the sweetness of edamame beans in your mouth. You take few seconds to nibble at it before you clap your hands, “So, anyway, ignoring my playdate -”

“It’s a date, [Name]-chan, Kita, that Kita, wants to _date_ you -”

“- You are safe, Bokuto-senpai. Shin-chan is not going to report you to your headmaster or Akaashi, or whatever!” you end up with a smile and peace sign, “I dealt with all of it! Praise me, peasants!” 

“Because you are going on a date with him,” Atsu repeats, his face grumpy as he switches the light off in your bathroom and leaves it, dragging Bokuto with his hand, “I don’t agree, sunshine, it’s not fair. Your first date should be with somebody you like, like me or Samu, not because you are bribing our captain.” 

“Shut up, Tsumu,” Osamu sighs, throwing the closest item at his twin. Atsumu dodges and your tv remote hits the wall. You look at it as you bring your knees to your chest, wondering if it’s dead. You hope it is not. You are not paying for this shit. 

“What the heck, Samu?!” he shouts, dropping his hold on Oreo Cookie, “Don’t tell me you don’t agree with me! [Name]’s first date should be unforgettable and -” 

“Listen, Tsumu, we agreed to trust [Name] more,” Osamu interjects sharply. Your eyes turn into literal hearts as you turn your head towards him, “Let her go on the playdate if she wants to. Kita knows that if he fucks up, we will fuck him up.” 

You are going to ignore the last part, too touched by him trying to give you more independence and to trust you. Without thinking much, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around the side of his stomach, “I love you, Osa-chan!” 

He chuckles as you nudge his tummy with your head, reaching to with his hands to hug you back as he whispers tenderly back, “I love you too, marshmallow.” 

You giggle into his shirt and raise your head, placing a quick kiss on his nose, “Thank you, handsome.”

“Stop this indecency,” Atsumu complains loudly as he shoves himself between the two of you, “I don’t want to see such affection when you are going on a date with Kita. What the heck, [Name]? I wanted to take you on a date, too!”

You feel a sweat falling from your chin. Is he a child? Yes, he is, what sort of question is that. A wave of anger sparks in your chest and you think about punching him in the arm but think better of it, remembering your conversation with him, and then the one you had with Osamu. 

_Jealousy, he feels jealous about Shin-chan_ , you understand as your eyes meet those honey-colored irises of his. You wonder if there is insecurity, hiding somewhere under his skin. You don’t like thinking like that, even if you, yourself are prone to feel jealous about your friendships. 

Your lips twitch and you decide to punch him gently - if you can punch somebody gently, that is - as you retort softly, “You can!” he lifts his eyes to you, a pink dusting his cheeks while you stick your tongue out of your mouth, “As long as you pay, that’s it.” 

Your lips tug upwards, letting him know you are just joking. Something wet and damp flickers in his eyes, but it is gone when he blinks and you wonder if you imagined it. 

“[Name],” he whimpers pathetically, bumping his shoulder against yours and resting his head on yours, “You are so unfair, sunshine.”

“Yes, I am,” you agree easily, reaching over to flick his cheek, “Stop being jelly, Atsu-chan. One small playdate with Kita will not change the fact you are my important friend too. Nothing ever can, you know, Atsu-chan? I love you too.” 

The words _I love you too_ cause his face to burst into furious red. You tap his nose and fold your legs as you propel yourself up to place one tender kiss upon his brown, “As long as you want me, I will always be your friend,” you promise him sincerely, bringing your hand to his hair and stroking it, “So don’t you worry about a thing, Tsu-chan.” 

“You are too soft for the idiot, [Name],” Osamu sighs, hitting his twin’s neck with an open palm. The older twin groans and you laugh, removing your hand from him, “Just tell him to fuck off.” 

“Wait, wait, wait, I want a kith too, [Name],” Rin moans from the floor and you blink with confusion, before falling into the couch, screeching from embarrassment, “Oof, rejected, better luck next time.” 

“Rinnie!” you scream scandalized, covering your face with hands and kicking your legs into the air, “You can’t say shit like that!” 

“She is right, Rin-kun, you can’t. That is unless you want a spike served straight into your ugly mug,” Atsu wakes up, his voice way too forceful and aggressive. You hear a light groan and wonder what your friend decided to do to make him suffer. 

You whimper into your hands, trying to forget the motherfuckery that just happened. _It’s okay, [Name]_ , you think to yourself, _It’s okay, think happy thoughts, like Caesar in Gaul or the battle of Austerlitz._

How cool is a battle to be named Battle of Three Emperors, right? Really fucking cool is the answer, even if the emperor of Austria and tsar of Russia of that time were not so epic. Well, to give credit where it’s due, at least Alexander I was on the fucking battlefield fighting Napoleon, unlike certain Austrian. 

“So, yeah, I’m going to ignore that,” Rin squeaks weakly, “There is a more important thing. Would you fuck him up? We are talking about Kita there.” 

“I will fuck everyone up if I have to,” Osamu replies lazily, yawning, “Even somebody as - fuck, I don’t even know how to call him. Kita is - no, that’s too embarrassing, I’m not saying it aloud.” 

“Since when you know what embarrassing means, Samu-kun?” Atsumu snaps, his tone irritated. You kick blindly in the direction of his voice. He hisses in pain and the second slap echoes, making you think that the younger twin hit him too, “You two are awful people, you know!” 

Yes, you are, but why is acting as if has any moral standing to call you that without looking like a hypocrite? You decide to ignore this certain problem. Your brainpower is best used on wondering what you can call Kita without ending being called a simp.

You can’t find any word that fits into those categories, so you mumble weakly, peeking at the ceiling through your fingers, “I dunno, he is just simply wonderful, right? I would vote for him if he tried to go for the Prime Minister.” 

“Same, honey, same,” Osamu answers. For a second, there is only silence as the three of you imagine a world in which Shinsuke becomes the leader of Japan. It doesn’t last long, because it never does with you, “Tsumu, what is your friend doing?” 

His friend? What is he talking about? He has to mean Bokuto, right? What is Puppy doing? You take your palms away from your face and roll around, wanting to see what Oreo Cookie broke. Only, he didn’t break anything at all. As far as you can tell, he is just staying in the corner, looking like the perfect personification of the word _depression_. 

You look around, not sure what is happening, and only notice Rin taking a photo of his visage. You clear your throat and the noirette sends you a smug smirk, “Blackmail material, I think. Or maybe I will just make memes out of it, don’t know, will decide later, xoxo, baby.”

 _B-B-Baby_?! Like a windows operating system when it needs an update, your mind just completely shuts down. The words swirl around your brain and you have trouble with breathing for a second. 

Then, Atsumu stomps his feet against Rin, and the middle blocker groans, making you very much concerned for about half the second before he whimpers weakly, “Worth it.”

“Stop this blatant flirting, damn it,” the blond demands, and you whimper, pressing your hands to your cheeks and trying to stop them from blushing. 

Meanwhile, Bokuto continues to stand in his own little corner, slowly but surely making you concerned. Your friends do not help at all, just observing him as if he was an animal in the zoo. Okay, so maybe you compared him to a lot of animals earlier, but still, shouldn’t at least Atsumu do something to help him? 

You push yourself up, going back to your sitting position. Atsu, the little bitch, just leaned against the backrest, putting his legs on your table after kicking Rintarou. You poke him in the cheek with your finger, demanding his attention and the fucker has the audacity to wave his hand dismissively at you, “He will get over it, just ignore him for now.” 

You weren’t even talking about that! You scoff, eyes still narrowed on his fugly feet on your table, before you give up. The bastard will not listen to you, why should you try? A huff of air leaves your mouth and you redirect your attention back to Bokuto. 

“Bokuto-senpai, what’s wrong?” you ask him, “Do you have a cold?” 

In mangas, it is always so easy to get a cold. Just one little stroll under the rain and _wham_ , you are suddenly sick. If the real world worked by that logic, both Bokuto and Atsumu would already be dead of hypothermia. 

They don’t look dead, though, and you are pretty sure the temperature of Atsumu’s forehead was normal. You pop your lips, placing your left palm on your temple while your right hand goes straight to Tsu’s, just to make sure. 

As far as you can tell, your temperatures are roughly the same, so you murmur under your breath, “Atsu-chan doesn’t have one. That’s good, no sadists for you. Bokuto-senpai?” 

“You know how they say that idiots don’t get sick?” Osamu comments sluggishly, tilting his hand on the hand rest and throwing his legs over Atsumu, “You shouldn’t worry about Tsumu at all, [Name]. He is never getting sick.” 

“I hate you,” Atsu murmurs back, his lips twisting into a pout, though he doesn’t seem to mind his brother laying down on him, “I hope you know that you weren’t planned.” 

“Just like you.” 

You laugh awkwardly, your eyes still on the figure of Bokuto. Is he going through his emo phase? If so, do you have to tell him that going through the Blue Whale Challenge is not a good idea and to call the motherfucking police? 

“Bokuto-senpai, please?” you try one last time or at least trying to tell yourself it’s the last time. He finally twitches, turning around to face you.

“Don’t call me _Bokuto-senpai_ , Choco-chan,” he complains in a pathetic, small voice, “I don’t like it all. Oreo Cookie sounds so much cooler.” 

“Does it?” Atsu calls out, his tone skeptical, “I mean, it’s cute, don’t get me wrong, sunshine, but Bokkun doesn’t seem like a guy who wants to be cute.” 

“Bokkun is super cute too, though,” you point out, rocking your shoulders left and right, “If I can't call him Oreo-chan, then you can’t call him Bokkun, how about it?” 

“Both of them are super cool,” he informs all of you, moving a bit to come closer to all of you, “But you can call me Ace too. Or Star because I’m the star of the team! Oh, or maybe Owl With Frosted Tips! That’s what Kuroo-tan calls me,” he smiles widely at the thought of his old friend before his face contorts in wonder, “Or you can call me by my name!” 

You don’t think you remember his name, but you are not going to tell him that when he looks at you with literal twinkles in his eyes. He even moves closer, sliding down to the floor near Rin. 

“All of those damn nicknames are way too long,” Atsu says simply, his lips quirking into a light, teasing smile, “So no way, you are staying Bokkun, end of the discussion. If you don’t like that, feel free to sue me.” 

“But Tsumya-” 

“Calm down, Regulus, you have remains of rice on your face,” you interject, pointing up the grains clutching to his chin, “What do you plan to do with your school, though? Shin-chan is not going to report you, but what about your teachers or school?” 

He lifts the hem of his shirt, causing you nearly to screech as you get a glimpse of his finely developed abs. You don’t, you just grip your knuckles with the strength you didn’t know you possessed, trying to ignore the heat waves pulsing through your body. 

Completely ignorant of the effect he has on you, he wipes the rice from his chin and drops the material. How nice of him, really, to give you a heart attack. Your hands quickly go to your ears and fidget with them, trying to pass the sudden redness on their corners as something entirely natural and in no form or shape caused by Bokuto. You have no idea if you succeed, as most of the attention is on Oreo Cookie anyway. 

“Sumi-nee will take care of the school, so it’s nothing to worry about,” the boy smiles obliviously to your sudden discomfort in clear contrast to the former _s-seductive_ gesture. Maybe this spy theory is much more probable than you thought because it is impossible that somebody is so unaware about their own appeal, “My club, my club, huh? As long as Akaashi and Kao-tan don’t find out that I wasn’t sick, it’s okay. They can never know, though. Never.”

“You just said you are the ace of your team though,” Rin points up in a completely dead tone, his words striking Bokuto’s chest, making him deflate visibly. The noirette remains ruthless, adding without any mercy whatsoever, “Aren’t you supposed to be their captain too? Inarizaki would be gone without Kita or Ojiro.” 

“But is it not important to take breaks?” you ask him, twisting your lips in discomfort, “Like too much practice is bad for your body, right?” 

“It’s not,” Oreo mumbles to himself, sulking, “There is never too much practice and - Argh!” he shouts out, expression changing into one full of frustration as he places his hand on his head, “Droopy Eyes is right! I have to practice today!”

“Droopy Eyes?” Rin repeats, “I don’t like it. Next.” 

“Both of you are not helping,” Atsu groans loudly and you can only shrug, not knowing what to say. You are pretty damn sure you are right, but Oreo doesn’t look to be willing to listen to your good advice. Your blond friend shifts his gaze towards Bokuto and you watch with surprise as he cheers him up, “Hey, Bokkun, just go to our practice if you want to train. I told you that I’m going to set for you, remember?”

Bokuto transforms from his moody, sullen self into the volcano of the energy that leaps out of his feet and jumps at the blond, “Tsumya ~ You are the best!” 

“Get off me!” 

You giggle gleefully, though you make sure to move away from them. You don’t want to be mistakenly hit.

* * *

Nobody dared to say anything when you arrived next to the bus with Bokuto, too busy being exasperated at your total lack of shame. Kurosu took one glance at his smiling face and just shrugged, mentioning only not to _burn anything down this time._ Dear Chtulhu, you scorch one restaurant just a little, and suddenly, people think you are a serial arsonist. 

Your practice ended up being rather eventless, as much as your team’s practice can be: nobody died if you don’t count those balls the twins hurled at each other, nobody broke their bones if you don’t count that one unfortunate janitor who walked into Atsu’s serve, and nobody cried if you don’t count Rizekai, but you really shouldn’t count him. 

In summary: it was perfect practice! 

So, of course, it had to be ruined.

This time, the harbinger of doom is Oomi Tarou. You know that something was up when he stood up. He never arises without reason, just like any human being! Dumb humans and their dumb motivations. You quickly close the lid of your bento box and place it down next to you. Then, your hands grasp the edge of the bench - one much more comfortable than Inarizaki’s - a little bit tighter and you swing your legs, trying your bestest not to look in his direction. It’s kinda fiddly behaving like you don’t know that somebody wants something from you when you, in fact, do know that. 

You swallow nervously, lifting your gaze to him and meeting those eyes that seem to be darker than void. Yeah, your good day is about to be completely ruined, is it not? Your coach smiles, but starts very much ominously, “Date, we have a task for you.”

The end is nigh. You raise your neck, before deciding to just abandon your seat, not comfortable with sitting while your teacher stands. You are short already, no point in being ever shorter by sitting down after all. Sending your teacher an awkward smile, you stand up as you fidget nervously with your sleeve, “W-What are you talking a-about, s-sensei?” 

Your stutter returns with revenge, this is how anxious you feel. You swing your sleeve, focusing down on the burgundy color. It’s a very nice color, is it not? You are very glad your school chose something tasteful for once, haha, even your thoughts are awkward. Your coach continues to smile eerily and you feel shivers going through your spine when he finally opens his mouth. 

“You know how Itachiyama fucked us over by making us pollute this city even more?” he asks in a perfectly cheerful tone. You guess that polluting the city means driving further away from your hotel, so you nod hesitantly, “They fucked us way more than they planned to because we don’t have time to go back to the hotel to eat lunch.” 

A gasp rumbles through the gym, followed by rushed steps. You don’t even have to blink before Osamu is at your side wild eyes and his hair disheveled. As you turn around, you bite down on your lip, watching him breathing heavily. You are pretty damn sure that he is running on the adrenaline alone and you don’t like it at all. 

The most important thing, you suppose, is that the silverette is not going to play in the coming match, though you understand very well that no power on this planet could stop him from playing. For someone claiming he doesn’t love volleyball as much as Tsu, he sure holds a lot of passion for this sport. 

“Are we going to starve?” the words escape from his lips between the pants. He is keeling over, palms on his knees, but he maintains steady eye-contact with your coach, “Do we have to resort to cannibalism? I don’t want to eat my brother, he is stinky.” 

You don’t notice any towel nearby so you take the pack of wet tissues from your pocket. You swiftly take one out and lean toward him and scold him, “All humans are stinky as hell. Seriously, don’t eat your brother, Sam-chan, no, scratch that, don’t eat anybody, it’s unhygienic!” 

You see his lips turning upwards in a gentle, fond smile. He brings his hand to yours and caresses it with the thumb before he steals the tissue from your palm. His eyes glimmer with silent gratitude and at once, you feel your stress disappearing as he straightens his back. You bounce a step backward as you observe him with sharp eyes. He is not going to faint on your watch, damn it. 

“No cannibalism for now, but hold the thought for the future,” Oomi advises gleefully, not caring in the slightest that his player just thought about eating his very own brother, “So, continuing and ignoring screams that haunts my nightmares - Date, we need you to go pick up our order from the restaurant. Headmaster paid for everything already, so don’t worry about that. I’m going to send you the address on the phone-”

Yeah, and just like that, you are back on the rollercoaster of death. Your head spins, no, fuck that, your mind straight-up backflips. Did-did your teacher just say what you think he did? Not possible, haha, he is not sending you alone into the city you know fuck about, right? So, okay, your stupid-ass did go on your own back in Sendai and you ended up all bruised, but back then you wanted to find one shop with fucking paste, not the whole-ass restaurant. 

“Wait, wait, wait, Tarou-sensei!” Atsu pushes himself in your conversation, ignoring, well, he is ignoring everybody. You don’t know when he even got so fast next to you, “You don’t mean to send [Name]-chan alone in Tokyo, right?” 

His sweet smile is so fake you would normally gag, but not this time, Satan. You feel gratitude sparkling in your chest at his words. To say this sort of overprotectiveness you approve of is the understatement of the century. You don’t feel ready to go on the solo adventure into the freaking _Tokyo_. You are so going to end up lost, mugged, or murdered and you have no idea what scares you the most. Chtulhu, you don’t want to do that and it takes all of your strength not to descend into the pits of anxiety. 

Fuck food, all of you can either starve or resolve to cannibalism. Hey, maybe you should eat the weasels of Itachiyama - they are the ones causing you all this trouble, after all, shitheads. You don’t understand this strange rivalry that your coaches seem to have with Itachiyama if you have to be truthful. It is sorta petty and childish, something you expected to see from Atsumu, not from freaking adults. 

Speaking about the blond, didn’t his nemesis attend this cursed school? Sakura or something. You hope he doesn’t have pink hair like the certain character from your favorite anime series, but the thing is, you don’t know - Tsu is suspiciously quiet about the guy.

“Don’t call me by my name, demon,” Oomi retorts back, tone calm and kind, even if his words are venomous. He sighs, rubbing his cheek, as your friend continues to glare at him, “She is just a year younger than you, you don’t have to go all defensive. One day, we are all going to die.” 

“She is a young girl and you want to send her all alone in Tokyo, of course, I’m going to worry!” the blond snaps and you can’t help the little smile that grows on your face, “Even if you ignore that, you are not going to make her carry all of our order! Look at her, coach, she is going to break in two if the wind blows in her direction!” 

Coach Oomi sends you one, judgemental gaze, and sighs, before raising his voice, “Then, Riseki, how about you go with Date?” 

_What._

“I don’t want to!” Rizekai screams from the other side of the gym. If it was somebody else, you would be very much impressed about the ability to hear things from so far, but yeah, it’s Rizekai, so you are not, “Y-You are joking, right, coach?!”

You hate to agree with him, but this one time, you kinda do, so you hastily raise your hands in objection, “No! Not him, Oomi-sensei, he is bitch-ass wimp who doesn’t respect the laws of the street!” 

Osamu nods, his brows furrowed as he shoots a death glare towards the boy, “Riseki, coach? He is the least reliable person on this team and that’s saying a lot. Let me or Tsumu go. It will be safer this way.”

“You are both members of the main line-up, you are not going on the simple errand when we are having a practice, boys,” the man shakes his head, his smile twitching just a bit, “Things like these are what managers do, demons, get used to it already.” 

“But coach-”

“No buts, children of the satanic cult that want to eat my soul,” he says, crossing his arms around his chest, “Just so you know, my soul is already sold. Date, be sure to change into your uniform.” 

You sway a little, your knees suddenly very weak. Nausea hits the back of your throat, but you try to mask the tension in your shoulders and smile at twins. It’s a very shaky smile, but it is a smile nonetheless. You see them easing a bit as they see it, but you doubt they are going to listen to anything Oomi has said and you cannot say you don’t feel warmed by the sentiment. The thought of going deep into the wild, wild Tokyo city alone is terrifying, but at the same time, you don’t want them to worry. 

“It’s okay, Osa-chan, Atsu-chan, I’m a big girl, ” you laugh awkwardly, bouncing forward as you shout out, “Rizekai, go change now, you loser! We are going shopping!” 

Your false bravado works at the wimp, seeing how quickly he leaves the gym. Well, you hope he is not running away, you don’t have time to hunt him down. Your coach nods at you with his creepy smile, before leaving you to your fate. 

The moment he turns around, the arms stretch towards you, and you are pulled into the safety of Miya’s embrace. Osamu is the first to break the silence, his tone carrying a lot of affection, “Don’t lie to us, [Name],” he falls silent, his eyes training after Oomi, “That’s fine, you don’t have to go. The loser can do it on his own.”

“Samu is right, sunshine, as stupid as he is,” Atsumu nods fervently, his breath tickling your neck, “All of these scrubs can starve, I don’t care.”

“[Name], Atsumu, Osamu,” you hear Shinsuke’s calm voice and as you shift your gaze, you see him coming closer to the three of you. Both you and the twins tilt your heads at him with a question shining in your eyes. To your surprise, that makes Kita hesitate, letting other people cut in before he can say anything more. 

“I can go with her if you are worried about Choco-chan, Tsumya, Myam-san!” Bokuto declares suddenly, hooping into your conversation with a smile that could rival the sun, “You can count on me.” 

He gives you all a little salute with his pal. Your eyelashes flutter in surprise as you quickly take in the new development. 

Bokuto is not your first choice for a guide, but he is definitely not your last - that dubious honor belongs to Gintama. So, yeah, you are pretty okay with being led through this strange city by the person who leaped into the river at the first opportunity presented. 

… Okay, you are not, but beggars can’t be choosers. Are you an awful person for thinking that? Probably, but you cannot help it if you are still not sure if Bokuto is not a secret CIA agent or something, ugh. 

You wiggle out of the twins’ arms and, nervously, you reach for your phone. There is already a message waiting for you with the address of the said restaurant, but to be honest, you don’t know even a single street in Tokyo, “Do you know this place?” 

Oreo Cookie blinks at your phone’s screen, before nodding seriously, “Yup! It’s near my sis’ university.” 

“Bokkun,” Atsumu clears his throat, as he looks deeply into Oreo Cookie’s eyes, “Will you really do that?” 

Why is there sunset in the middle of the gym suddenly? Are they having a romantic subplot on the side and you didn’t even notice? You rub your eyes and while the illusion of sunset disappears, the tender affection they hold in their eyes doesn’t. You look between the two of them, now feeling unsure as hell. 

Should you leave and give them a room? Maybe Atsu wasn’t into Kageyama or that manager, but you are pretty sure he is into Bokuto’s muscles and you can’t even blame him. 

“Tsumya, leave it to me,” Bokuto declares loudly, pointing with his thumb to his chest. You share a dubious gaze with Osamu, though you don’t have the courage to say anything aloud, “Nothing is going to happen to Choco-chan as long as I’m there!” 

In contrast, Osamu doesn’t hesitate, his brows irking, “Tsumu, don’t say you trust him with _[Name]_.”

“He is not a bad person, Samu,” Atsumu’s answer rolls easily out of his tongue, words heavy and grave. He nods to himself once, before looking back to Bokuto with a serious glint in his eyes, “I’m leaving my sunshine in your care, then. Not a hair out of the place, got it?” 

“Aye, aye!” 

That was certainly easy. Way too easy. Suspiciously easy. You don’t like it. Nervously, you rock on the balls of your feet, still unsure about going into the wild city of Tokyo without somebody a little more reliable. 

“[Name], fuck him,” Osamu swallows heavily, deciding that his twin is beyond salvation. He spins towards you, taking a few steps forward and leaning down to match your height. The back of his hand caresses the skin of your cheek and you feel a little bit better, “Say a word and we’re going back to the hotel. No, fuck that, we’re going back to Amagasaki.” 

There are no words in your language to show you much appreciate him. Your smile is a little bit broken as you answer, hand reaching toward his palm, “It will be okay, Sam-chan, don’t worry.” 

You don’t know who are you trying to deceive - yourself or him. 

“Make sure to take everything with you,” Shinsuke adds when he notices the silverette taking a step back, “Tissues, mask, sanitizer, handkerchief, your phone and wallet with ID,” he nods seriously, eyes suddenly shimmering dangerously, “I will make sure Rizekai will not say unnecessary things,”

“I have a phone in my hands,” Rin cuts in and you don’t even know since when he was listening to your conversation, “Call me anytime you need something, Miss Murder.” 

Your heart swells at those words and you look slowly towards their faces, seeing all of them full of love and worry. 

“All of you behave as if I’m going to the war,” you bring your hand towards your hand and beam at them, “Thank you. I love you all.” 

Needless to say, you didn’t expect Shinsuke to faint or for Rin to get a nosebleed at those words.

* * *

Traveling through Tokyo with Bokuto is more fun than you would have thought. Yes, he is not the guide who will talk with you about the history of the city, but he is also not somebody who will dryly comment _this is my school_ and point somewhere you can’t even see. You can’t stop laughing as he retells his misadventures, Rizekai trailing after both of you like an awkward third wheel. His tales are so far-fetched that you wouldn’t believe in them if that was somebody else telling them. 

He recalls fondly how in this place he made friends with a fortune-teller who is currently in jail for a crime she didn’t commit (she sends him packages with baked goods every once a while) or in that place he found old, rusted katana from the Edo era (he ended up donating it to the museum and Tokyo’s governor thanked him for that personally), oh, and there he was attacked by a tiger that escaped from the illegal breeding ring (he was pretty bummed when he had to separate with _Nanaki-chin_ , but that’s okay, he still visits him sometimes in the ZOO). 

Tokyo, you find out, is a very scary city. But it’s good, you suppose, that jumping into the river is not the stupidest thing he ever did.

His words nearly make the dreadful ride in Yamanote Line bearable. You heard all dark legends about Tokyo’s underground system, from people having to beat people in, to young girls getting molested. Nothing like that happens to you, thank Cthulhu, thought the train you end up at is the most crowded train you have ever seen. 

You are not even traveling during _rush hour_ , for fuck’s sake. 

At least the road from the underground is much safer and getting to the restaurant to pick up your order is much easier. To be honest, the staff seems even more nervous than you, not expecting teenagers to be their illustrious customers. After several calls, though, Rizekai is free to take the bags, and you exit the restaurant successfully. You try your best to ignore that the said restaurant has earned Michelin stars. 

Bokuto proposes to help Rizekai carry the order, but you shot down the idea before the freshman can agree, “Let him earn his keep, Oreo-chan.”

The boy is so happy you called him by that nickname that he doesn’t refute you, just bouncing ahead to, what you think is, the train station. You take a deep breath, following after him. You can’t really match his steps, but you can at the very least see his tall stature over the crowd. 

For a while, that is. 

“Oh, wait there, Choco-chan, I think I see somebody I know!” Bokuto suddenly speaks out from the way ahead and you blink as he dashes out, disappearing faster than you can call out for him to wait. 

You don’t have time to say anything as Bokuto dashes out, disappearing in the crowd. He screams something, but you can’t even discern what he says, so quickly he vanishes, leaving you very much confused. 

You have no idea what to do and so, you stand motionless in the middle of the street. Somebody, predictably, bumps into your shoulder and you stumble a bit. The man who hit you curses under his breath and sends you an awful glare that has you scattering backward. Your back hits the wall of the nearby building and you take a moment to calm down your racing heart. 

Tokyo is a very scary place. You look around, searching for the familiar white-black hair, but you don’t find Bokuto anywhere. You chew on your lip, not liking the situation you found yourself at all. Rizekai continues to awkwardly gape at you, showing no initiative whatsoever. 

You click your lips when your eyes see the sign you know very well. You think of Osamu’s lethargic behavior and nod a little to yourself. You glance back to Rizekai and see him nervously fidgeting with his fingers. 

“Hey, Rizekai,” you call out to him, ignoring the way his head perks up, “I’m going to get coffee for Osa-chan, while we’re here. Wait for me and Bokuto, okay? Oh, do you have a preference? Thinking about getting drinks for all of the team, maybe.” 

“B-But there’s no cafe nearby,” he points up shyly. You blink at him owlishly and raise your hand to the sign you saw before. He squints a bit, before gulping down nervously, ‘That’s not the c-cafe, D-Date-san. That’s Starbucks.” 

“Duh, Starbucks sells coffee, right?” you ask rhetorically and proceed to sigh loudly as you clap your hands, “No preference then? Okay, bye.” 

You quickly move to the shop, not listening to his objections. The place is very close, so it doesn’t take you a long time to reach the doors, Rizekai’s judging eyes still over you. You open the doors of Starbucks, sliding inside as quietly as a ninja.

A line is formed near the check-out, so shyly wobble at the end, trying your best not to feel insecure. You fidget with the hem of your uniform’s sweater, overthinking your order. You know both Osamu and Atsumu’s favorite flavors and preferences, but choosing drinks for Rin, Shinsuke and the rest of your team is a tad complicated. 

You guess ordering Chocolate Pretzel Frappuccino or Sakura Blossom Latte is a nice, safe choice - you don’t want people who don’t like pretzels in your team anyway.

You quickly run your order in your mind as you stand waiting as a small smile creeps to your lips. Aren’t you the best manager or what? You are about to buy them all drinks at your cost. You have to stifle the excited giggle, not wanting to be seen as the weirdo. 

You scan the room as you wait and find yourself tilting your head just a bit. Nobody told you serial killers use Starbucks too. You shouldn’t be surprised, though, even murderers drink their coffee. 

The boy stands near the wall in the corner, careful to not touch the wall with any part of his body. He is holding his arms strangely, in the shape that makes you think of the English letter _v_. Most noticeable, though, is his uniform. You discern it easily, the Itachiyama Institute’s rich-ass clothes instantly reminding you of your brother. Your nose wrinkles, but there is no way this boy attended that school at the same time as the fucker belonging to your family. 

Your brother, after all, is an old cow, and while the serial murder lurking in the cafe have to be young. Though, you have trouble saying his age because of the face mask he wears and, most importantly, his height. 

He is easily towering over everyone in Starbucks, sending the dark aura of death and destruction worth of the best hitman in the world or of the serial killer that police looks for since the eighties. Does it mean he is immortal like Washijo? Well, you don’t know, but you can’t help but think that he wouldn’t hesitate to stab a bitch who got too close to his personal space.

You wonder if you should call the police. Yeah, you probably should - only you don’t have evidence that he committed any crime and don’t remember seeing his face on the FBI’s most wanted. 

Or, you know, you are letting your imagination get better of you again, and he is just nervous. If so, you feel a little bit bad for calling him the serial killer in your mind, but not bad enough to go offer an apology. You are not suicidal like Rin, after all.

You sway your sleeve a little, suddenly wishing you were a braver person. Maybe if you would be, you could hop to him and help with his anxiety instead of sitting ducks like everyone else.

You move your eyes away when a loud _wham_ resounds. You look back - just like the rest of the Starbucks’ population - to see the serial killer’s uniform drenched in coffee. Well, you are about to be a witness to the homicide. Nice, you are starting to like this city.

“Sakusa! I’m so, so sorry!” the brunet who run into him yelps, looking around in a panic, “I didn’t mean to -”

“My hankie is soaked,” the hitman answers. You notice the said _hankie_ , delicate and silken, stained by dark liquid. You quirk your eyebrow at that. Handkerchief? Just like Waka or Shinsuke. Instantly, you decide that he can’t be the serial killer if he has one. 

“Let me ask for tissues-”

“Forget it,” the hankie boy says, his eyes dropping down, looking incredibly sad, “Let’s just go back before I catch a cold.” 

Your heart beats loudly in your ribcage. Stupidly, you leave your place in the line and go after them, stepping into their way and hastily taking out your wet wipes. You don’t let his gaze intimidate you and shyly offer the pack to him, your hand trembling, “H-Hello,” you smile bashfully, bouncing on your legs, “Are you a-alright? T-There, I have wet wipes - they smell of hibiscus, I think, I hope you are not allergic -”

“Did one of you seriously follow me to _Starbucks_?” he scoffs, interrupting you with the words layered with disdain. You freeze, your smile falling from your lips as harsh rejection resounds around your chest, “This is _stalking_ ,” he tells you, shaking his sleeve from the coffee. A couple of droplets of the drink fall on your sweater, but you can’t move back, paralyzed by fear, “All of you are just plain disgusting. When you will understand I don’t want any of your attention?” 

He cocks his chin, the black curls of his hair swaying at his forehead. You lose all of your words, feeling so dumb all of sudden. 

_I just wanted to help_ , whispers the pathetic part of your mind, _I hate seeing people being sad. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-_

“Hey, Sakusa, that’s a little too much,” the brown-haired boy who spilled his drink over the brunet hastily speaks out, trying to ease the situation. Well, guess what, there is no easing this shit, even with such bright smile, “Thank you very much, ha, I’m so clumsy-” 

“Don’t talk to her,” the serial killer scorns, “You don’t know what sort of diseases she carries.” 

Eyes, dark like coal, meet yours. Your legs tremble under your weight and you have no idea how you hold on under the force of his gaze. It feels like he stares straight into your soul, seeing all of your failures and mistakes, and suddenly, you feel very much faint. 

Somebody snickers. You don’t know who it is, but that snicker saves your fucking life. 

The dread at the bottom of your stomach changes into unpaired anger. Fire breaks out in your chest, the flames of your fury dancing around your limbs. You hurtle your wipes back, hitting your palm against your chest as you sneer right back. 

You just wanted to help somebody in need, but fuck that, the little princess over there can’t take the strangers’ kindness. 

“Who the f-fuck do you think y-you are?” you hiss, having trouble to calm the raging ocean of fire under your skin. You sense the brunette’s eyes darkening even further, but the words stumble through your lips anyway, bringing the hand you offered back to your chest, “S-Stalking? As if my life was so fucking boring I would go after some a-asshole. I wanted to be nice, you c-combustible r-rock.” 

“I didn’t ask you for any help,” he retorts, his forehead deforming with wrinkles. Your lips quiver and you open your mouth, ready to slap the bitch with facts and logic, but he is faster, hateful words leaving you stunned, “Why would I want anything from somebody so filthy?”

“Sakusa, c’mon, that’s too much!” 

You feel angry tears tickling in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill all over your face. Yeah, you don’t wear the mask that Shinsuke gave you, so what? Yeah, your shoes are a tad muddy and your shirt is sweated through, so what? He is wrong, wrong, wrong, you are not filthy at all.

Your vision blurs, becoming red from the sheer rage. You understand the myth of berserkers at least, wishing to be just a little bit taller. If you were, you could reach for that damn hair of his and tear it off his scalp. You wish you were just a little bit stronger. If you were, you could reach for his neck and choke the life out of him. You wish you were just a little less helpless in a situation like that. You are not, of course, you are not. There are way too many witnesses to do anything. You don’t want to be sued for an aggravated assault. 

You can’t show him another cheek, though. You are not so mature. 

“At least I don’t look like somebody who is kicking kittens for fun,” you snap back childishly, hurling your wet wipes at his stupid face, “Cthulhu, I hope the police find the bodies of your murder victims. You probably hold them under the floor and get off to the smell, don’t you?” 

You ignore the angry expression that appears between his eyebrows and spin around, sparing his pathetic life. Without thinking about buying coffee anymore, you reach to the handle of the door, ignoring the words coming after you as you storm out of Starbucks, doing your best not to look back. 

You are refusing to be part of this circus any minute longer. 

When the doors slam behind you, you want nothing more but to slide down to your knees and cry. You don’t. You hide your face in your hands, furiously rubbing your eyes out of your eyes. The coal-eyed jerk doesn’t deserve any of your tears, damn it.

You look quickly around, but don’t see either Bokuto and Rizekai. They are gone and you have no idea what to do.

You are in the capital of Japan and about to have a mental breakdown over some dick’s words. Fuck, fuck, fuck - you stride in ahead, not knowing where you are going, just wanting to get the fuck away from that shitty shop and the shitty attitude of the people inside of it. 

You feel so humiliated and so, so hurt. Well, guess what, you are never going to be nice to another person ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☆*ヾ(- ∀・*)*+☆ Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it ~~


	49. In which you are abducted (god damn it).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought that Bokuto’s hair was ridiculous, but the brunet wouldn’t look so out at the Uchiha Clan’s Reunion with this thing sticking unnaturally out of his head. Huh, if you squint your eyes, he looks like the younger version of Madara Uchiha if he ever got a solid haircut. You mean, yes, his hairstyle is atrocious, but still, whatever Kuroo has on his head would be an improvement for Madara.
> 
> Now you kind of understand why Oreo Cookie calls him old: Madara Uchiha is ancient. You briefly wonder what he does in your dimension, but really, who you are to know what the mind of Naruto’s greatest villain holds. 

A derisive puff escapes from your partially open lips. The pavement is not exactly the most comfortable place to sit, but you can’t find in yourself the strength to care as you collapse down. Your stockings are going to end dirty, comes half-witted thought, but what difference will it make when you are filthy already? 

You giggle, the sound coming off strangely hysterical in your ears. You press your hands into fists, the irony hitting you at once. Of course that it sounds _hysterical_ , you are not exactly behaving rationally right now. What sort of logical person hides in the back alley in the capital city of Japan? Yeah, something like that is not a sensible thing to do, but here you are, doing exactly that. 

In your defense, normally, you would very much avoid places like that, your sense of survival stronger than any lurking curiosity. Alleyways are playgrounds for predators, after all, and you don’t want to end up in the stomach of the cannibal or worse. 

The situation is not ordinary. Or maybe it is and your life has become the circus. You should just buy a clown costume and go around scaring people, maybe then nobody would dare to insult you. 

_Well_ , you think, rubbing the salt over your wounds, _If I die, then it’s the kitten killer’s fault. Not that he would care. Maybe I should haunt his ass? But then I would have to watch those awful eyes every day, damn, no._

You breathe out, raising your head to the sunny sky. The weather seems to be mocking you, being so happy and nice, when you feel quite miserable. You can’t believe you are saying it, but you think you prefer the harsh winds smacking your skin, stupid spring, changing moods faster than you can. 

They say that every sigh causes your happiness to escape, but it is hard to stop yourself from sighing, just like it is difficult to hold off your tears from spilling out. You look down, your eyes dropping to your knees. Your legs are folded against the sidewalk, not letting the world see your dreadfully muddy shoes. They are so offending, are they not? Just like your sweater and look at your hair, so tangled up, how dare you, oh, _excuse you_ , Majesty, for being human- 

You love your shoes, no matter how gross they look, fuck him. They are yours. The mud on them belongs to you too, you bought them yourself, they are cute and pretty, and no person has the right to comment on them. You wear them for yourself, after all, and only one person can comment on them. _Only you._

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath. It doesn’t feel like you swore at some fucktard who deserves to be cursed. Rather than that, the word feels freeing, liberating you as surely as the fall of the Iron Curtain did years ago. You repeat the word more forcefully, “Fuck!” 

You laugh to yourself, bringing your hands to your chest in mirth. You have no reason to hold off your profanity because the backstreet is pretty much empty if you don’t count the vending machine in the corner. Not to be rude towards the vending machine, but you are not going to count it, so you are all alone in this creepy alley. 

Your breath comes out very shallow as you remind those onyx eyes. How people can have eyes so fucking dark anyway? It’s unnatural. The Serial Kitten Killer is probably a vampire or something. Good, vampires can’t come uninvited and you are never going to invite him to your apartment! He can feel free to creep around your parents’ house, though. You can even give him the damn address. 

_Oh._

This is something you didn’t think about. Your parents’ house is in Tokyo and you probably could visit them, but you really, really don’t want to. They are not in the country anyway, probably. You hope they are not in the country. Tokyo is a big city, right? There is no way you will meet them. The same goes for other _personae non gratae_ from your list. 

Like the coal-eyes asshole. 

You always thought that Shinsuke’s eyes were cold but there was always something soft and comforting in that icy gaze of his. Nothing like you could find in the coal-like irises belonging to the Itachiyama's student. Those eyes will haunt your dreams. No, wait, fuck that, this whole accident will appear in your nightmares.

You whimper when you notice your cheeks heating up. You feel really, really humiliated. You wanted to be nice, okay? You wanted to be kind and helpful, and didn’t want anyone to be sad, so why the fuck you are sad now? How is any of that fair? Life, you suppose, is not fair at all and you should get used to it already. 

You shake your head, trying to forget how fucking embarrassing it was. Cthulhu, you are _mortified_. You hide your face in your palms, rubbing the corners of your eyes, just to make sure you are not going to cry. 

Nobody ever talks about how hard it is to hold in your tears. If there was difficulty setting, then not crying would be the equivalent of the _maddening_ difficulty in Fire Emblem games. In the twisted sort of way, it is the lunacy, clutching the pieces of your heart together, trying not to crumble into pieces. You are a petty person. You just don’t want him to win. 

_Positives, [Name], think about positives_. _Are there any positives?_

You bite down on your tongue, trying to hold in your emotions. The rational part of your mind reminds you that you are never going to see the fucker again and so, you can all forget about him. He probably doesn’t remember you. Fuck, that doesn’t work. Now you are getting pissed. For him, it’s just one, stupid accident with some crazy, filthy girl while for you - well, you are the one sitting down in the backstreet, trying not to sob. 

You sigh into your skirt. Just like your stockings, it’s going to become dirty too, you suppose. You wonder if Inarizaki is going to give you demerits for not representing your school properly. Your heart sinks at the thought. That would certainly make the whole situation worse. 

Well, it’s not like you can help that. Your shoes may be grubby, your sweater sweated through and now your stockings are going to be dusty. Not to comment on your hair, your locks in total despair thanks to the stupid wind, but at the very least. Positives - your face is not going to be puffy. 

You were crying in the last days too much anyway. You pat your cheek, trying to cheer yourself up as you whisper with dry lips, “Just be brave, [Name].”

But being brave is not going to help you with the fact that you are _lost_ and thirsty. Okay, forget about your need to drink, you have at least three days to do that. You can’t stay in this little corridor between Tokyo’s buildings for three days, though. It is going to be awful sleeping there, so cold and damp. You need to get moving. 

You take the phone out of your pocket and unlock it with your finger. Strangely, you see no new messages, your notification feed empty. You guess the practice is pretty hectic - or that Kuroso has taken twins’ phones. Sweat drops from your forehead. Yeah, that second option is much more likely. 

You shake your head, trying not to think about that as you put your localization on and check where the heck you are. Unfortunately, the name of the street tells you jack-shit. You sigh. You don’t even know where the gym is. How about your hotel, then? Quickly, you put the information in and pale as you see the distance. 

Yeah, haha, you are so fucking lost. 

Wasn’t there an American TV-series called Lost? Well, at least you are not alone in this predicament, then! Oh, how about the courageous men of the 77th Division that were separated in Argonne during the First World War? Wait, a lot of them died. You are not Rin, you don’t want to die.

You snuffle as you remember your friends. You wish they were with you there. You wish any of them to send you even a single, stupid message. Maybe they hate you? Maybe they don’t want you to be friends with them anymore- Wait, maybe then all of it is their plan! They told both Bokuto and Rizekai to abandon you, didn’t they?! Fucking demons, only that-

That is so silly. You know they wouldn’t. 

_They would not._

_Stupid coach_ , you think as you press your head down towards your knees, _Why Rizekai, of all people? Anyone but him or Gintama would be fine. Rizekai is just a lame loser. He is so fucking tall, how the fuck can he scared of the girl half his height?_

You could still absolutely demolish him, of course, any time of the week, whatever you fucking want, but still he was afraid of little old you. 

Returning to your current predicament, though. You tap your fingers against the concrete. There is not much you can do on your own. With Google, you can find your way to the station, but there is no way you will be able to ride that thing without anyone holding your hand. Trains are scary, super scary and the crowds of Tokyo don’t help you with this perception at all. 

You live only once and thank goodness for that, you don’t think you would like to live more in the world like that. 

Another option is getting an uber. You like this one, though the distance you will travel through will cost a lot. You are not getting that new Europa Universalis IV DLC, you guess. You sight tiredly. What more can you do? Is that the time for plan C? Well, you think it’s time for plan C. 

_Lord Satan, please, your faithful daughter needs you_ , you whisper into your mind. You wait for the moment, but Satan doesn’t answer. _Thank you for nothing, Satan._

“Hey, hey, hey!” you feel your shoulders shake in surprise as you hear the familiar voice, “Kuroo-tan, I found her! There you are, Choco-chan!” 

You raise your head only to see the frame of Bokuto standing near the entrance of the alley you claimed for yourself. You flutter your eyelashes and part your lips in surprise. You are not going to lie: you were not expecting to see him ever again after he just disappeared from the middle of the street. 

No matter how good a person he is, after all, he has no obligation to care about you enough to look for you. How the fuck did he even found you in this dingy, stingy alley you chose at random? 

Okay, you think that this is very much a fast redemption arc for Lord Satan. 

“Why weren’t you waiting for me?” he complains aloud. You can’t see him clearly, but you just know he is pouting, not seeing how your lip quivers in his presence, “I told you to wait, Choco-chan. I wanted to introduce you to Kuroo-tan, you know!” 

You want to hug him, that’s how profound your relief is. You don’t, of course, there is no way you ever would, but-

_But._

You know that you end up becoming a damsel in distress a lot, no matter how embarrassing it is to think about it. Your knights in the shining armor were - are - Atsumu and Osamu, your closest friends and confidants. Even with your closeness to Rin and Shinsuke, you never thought somebody else would care enough to come to _help_ you.

When you see him striding confidently towards you, sunlight behind his back, you can’t help becoming a little bit enamored. Your lips twist in a shaky smile and you wonder if the feeling in your chest is the same as the people of Vienna felt when the Winged Hussars has arrived, coming down the mountainside. 

You sniff as he comes closer and his face instantly changes into something much more grave, “Wait, wait, wait! Choco-chan, are you crying?!” 

You tilt your head at the sudden concern. Yeah, okay, so he cared enough to come after you, but showing such genuine reaction - is he genuine? - for you being simply upset is well, just baffling. Seriously, who cares so much about the random person they met yesterday? Certainly not you. If Atsu didn’t jump into the same fucking river, you certainly wouldn’t madly dash to the shop for Bokuto only. You bite down on your lip. Yeah, you wouldn’t. 

_You would not._

Oh, who are you kidding? 

You would totally do that for Oreo Cookie, even when you didn’t know his name. You are just a wimp, who cannot stand the vampire kitten-killers looking sad. You are pathetic, really, really pathetic. 

It seems Bokuto is a wimp too: he goes into the run, moving so fast he becomes the white-black blur again. The moment he finds himself before you, he drops into the crouch and puts his palms on your shoulders. You shot him an awkward gaze and pale a little when his eyes burn into your very soul.

You find it hard to hold his gaze and so, you drop it. Fuckity fuck, and there is Satan’s revenge. 

“What happened? Did you get hurt? Did somebody tell you something mean? Do you need a hug? Argh! I promised Tsumya to take care of you!” he moves his hands away from you and grasps his hair, “How I will tell him that?!” his eyes catch yours and he screams out in frustration, “That’s not important! Choco-chan is crying now!” 

You are not fucking _crying_. You are doing your best there, okay? He should cut you some slack because the words you heard coming from that black-haired boy’s mouth are still very much distressing. 

You were called so many, many names, all of them cruel and terrible, but you don’t think somebody called you _filthy_ to your face. You are not exactly a clean freak, but you take care of yourself, as much as you can, for fuck’s sake! 

What sort even of an insult is that? _Haha, you filthy peasant! Bow before His Majesty!_ Hello, it’s not the fifteenth century anymore, his aristocratic ass should learn what happened in France during the Great Terror. 

You click your lips, shuffling your gaze away from Bokuto. How exactly are you supposed to recall that particular tale of the sir Vampire, Hunter of the Kittens? You have nothing against Bokuto - if you don’t count those CIA suspicions - but you don’t know if the person as excitable as him would understand the depths of your humiliation. 

To sound cliche as hell, Bokuto is kinda from another world than yours. 

Or at least, he seems to be. 

As you endeavor to not look at Oreo Cookie, you find yourself bringing your eyes to the entrance of the backstreet. It would be hard not to notice the figure creeping in, a long shadow appearing in your alley. That one, you see, is oozing with the amount of confidence that instantly puts you at the ease. Whoever this person may be - the old man Kuroo, probably, Oreo was saying something about him, right? - they feel just a tad like Atsumu. That comes with the age. The true wisdom, you mean, not the faked your friend dons. 

You can’t tell a lot about Kuroo right now, seeing as he is standing in the shadow, but he seems to be surprisingly tall and muscular for an old man. Well, maybe he is in his forties, or something? That would be old too, right? You are fif-sixteen, you mean _sixteen_ , everybody is old for you! 

“Choco-chan!” Bokuto places his hands on your shoulders again and you can’t help but flinch at the volume of his voice. He catches the change in your expression instantly, lowering his voice and speaking with a gentler tone, “Tell me why are you crying, bunny, please, please, please?” 

_B-Bunny_? Excuse you, that’s so, so wrong. You are a vixen! _The_ Vixen! Cthulhu, look at you, getting _e-embarrassed_ over something s-so stupid. You blush profoundly at the term of endearment leaving his lips, no matter how much you hate your body for it. Like, can't it chill? It is not big deal - that's a lie, being called bunny by a stranger is a big, flustering thing and you hate your life. 

“N-not a bunny!” you yell out, shaking your head furiously, hair swinging in all directions of the world. It’s going up to get even more tangled, but you don’t care as you vehemently reject the idea of being bunny. Somebody has unfulfilled desires of visiting the Playboy club and you-you don’t want to think about those connotations, “I’m n-not- I’m-I’m a vixen and f-foxes eat bunnies anyway!” 

“Do they?” Bokuto blinks at you innocently. A whistle leaves your parted lips simply because you can’t believe the amount of bullshit you hear. Is he serious now? He can’t be serious. He can’t be serious, you want to emphasize that point - oh but guess what, he is serious, continuing mercilessly, “Kuroo-tan, you have to be careful to not let any in your house!” 

“Are there any foxes in Tokyo anyway?” you question, bringing your hand to your chin. Your thumb reaches to your lips and you tug them, wondering aloud, “I know there is fox village in Miyagi - Oh my god, I’m so stupid, we have to go back, I didn’t visit it -” 

“But if you bring foxes back with you, both Unagi-chan and Kenshin-chan are going to die,” Bokuto points up, shaking your shoulders with power that makes you instantly dizzy, “You can’t do it, Choco-chan.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that right now,” you hear a smooth voice ring out from behind Bokuto. Famous Kuroo, you presume as you wrinkle your nose. You are going to sound like a jerk, but you were not expecting the old person’s voice to be so, well, silky, “Your friend - hey, stop shaking her like that! You are going to give her serious brain damage!” 

Not really, he doesn’t have enough power - Oh no, he would totally be able to do that. Don’t children who are rocked by their too much develop brain damages? Wait, wait, wait, is that person insinuating that you are so short you look like a baby? 

“No! Choco-chan, don’t get brain damage!” 

Hey, maybe that asshole who called you short was right because you are getting some brain damage from all of this bullshit happening before you. If all of it was a game, you would definitely have a debuff on your intelligence stat from just listening to all of this bullshit. 

Well, at least Bokuto is no longer shaking you. 

You let out a shaky breath, your head spinning a bit before you steady yourself by putting your palms against elbows. A familiar smell hits your nose. Oreo Cookie, you remember, is still wearing Atsu’s clothes, and the fragrance of his expensive cologne dances in the air. 

You never understood why he made sure to drown all of his clothes in this overpriced perfume. He was ordering it from fucking Italy, paying so much of his allowance that it should be considered a sin. You should be glad he is getting his money's worth, and well, you never thought you would be grateful for that stupid habit, but somehow, this simple scent brings you so much solace that you nearly forget about-

_Oh._

Even without that, you no longer feel as bad as before about the vampiric kitten killer. Should you just go with calling him Edward from _Twilight_? Yeah, you probably should, it will be easier for your poor, filthy mind to call him that, asshole. 

You shift your gaze back to Bokuto and you drop your hold over his shoulders. This one time, you guess, you can let the manner of brain damage and the argument about the reimbursement go. 

“I’m not crying,” you mutter under your breath, hands on your knees grasping the skirt of your uniform. Bokuto instantly frowns and you swallow loudly, repeating words louder, with much more conviction, “I’m not crying, thank you very much, Oreo-chan. I never cried in my life before and you have no evidence that says otherwise. Shut up, I’m going to sue you.” 

You are very proud of yourself for not using any swear words. It is a little bit hard to hold your foul language when you are _emotionally distressed_ , but you are trying, damn it. 

“Okay then,” Oreo Cookie nods sagely. With one, confident move, he stands up and instantly puts his hand towards you, “But I was worried about you, you know! You should have waited for me.” 

“Wait, just like that?” Kuroo fellow repeats with the edge of disbelief to his tone. He sighs loudly, “You are such a simpleton, Bokuto, I don’t know what I was expecting.” 

“Shut up, I’m not!” Oreo turns around as he yells out. A chuckle resounds around the back alley. Should he talk this way to his elders? No, he should not. Do you care? No. Should you? Probably. 

“Well, you disappeared at me without a trace, like a wizard, _poof_ ,” you say back without any real bite in your words, “I thought you just ditched me. That was not really nice of you, but I understand, I think? Maybe. Probably not.” 

Not-fucking-nice, indeed. It was kind of a dicking move if you can say so yourself, but you guess he was just not thinking about his actions, too excited. You release a little huff of air from your mouth before you send him a little smile. 

Bokuto blinks at you owlishly, looking very serious before he offers effortlessly, with genuine remorse coating his words, “Oh, yeah, Choco-chan, sorry about that,” your heart swells at the words. You look toward him hesitantly and you notice that his hand is still stretched towards you, “I saw Kuroo-tan and just got excited. Wanted to introduce you!” 

It takes you a second to understand that he is _offering_ his palm to you. Hesitantly, you place your palm at his, “Next time just tell me, duh.” 

He smiles, bright as the sun, and he pulls you up in one, swift move. You stumble a bit in surprise, but he steadies you effortlessly, “Okay, Choco-chan. I’m never leaving without saying again!” 

Maybe, just maybe, he is not an enemy of the state, after all. Your tiny smile becomes a little bigger as your hand is practically engulfed into his sweaty palm. You don’t mind that, comforted by the warmth of his presence. Bokuto takes no notice of how muddy your shoes are and he disregards your tangled hair, so why should you worry about a little bit of sweat? 

“You didn’t lose a person. You left her in the middle of the street,” comes the sly voice of the boy, a cocky smirk appearing on his face as he half-closes his eyes, “I sometimes wonder if your neurons are even capable of synapsing.”

You can’t help it, not truly. Or maybe you can and just don’t try, but the remark is way too sassy, way too sharp, way too funny to not giggle at it. So, you do just that, quiet titter flowing from your direction as you bring your free hand to cover your lips. Bokuto looks comically betrayed, but he drops your hand gently, spinning around to face the boy. 

“Kuroo-tan, you know I have no idea what those words mean!” Oreo Cookie exclaims with the confidence you reluctantly admire. It’s not easy to admit your flaws, after all, but Bokuto doesn’t even stutter as he continues, hands on his hips, “But I know you are trash-talking me and you need to stop! Stuff like that happens to everyone!” 

Your _tee-hee_ becomes even louder, but the quarreling boys don’t seem to care, the boy bantering back with the clever smile permanently drawn on his face, “No, it doesn’t! It happens only to you.” 

“Oh, it is so?” 

A merry hum escapes through your parted lips, but it is soon interrupted by somebody’s coughing pointily. You tilt your head, dipping it from behind Bokuto to look at the person leaning against the wall. 

“Yes!” 

Your eyes are still crinkling with mirth when you notice something very, very wrong. Bokuto called this _young man_ Kuroo. 

Your laugh breaks off and you instantly look toward him, trying to understand how his old man of a friend doesn’t look older than Momijiro or Shinsuke. Your hand comes to your chin, thumb grazing against your lower lip while you scan him carefully as the both of them continue to trade insults. 

You thought that Bokuto’s hair was ridiculous, but the brunet wouldn’t look so out at the Uchiha Clan’s Reunion with this thing sticking unnaturally out of his head. Huh, if you squint your eyes, he looks like the younger version of Madara Uchiha if he ever got a solid haircut. You mean, yes, his hairstyle is atrocious, but still, whatever Kuroo has on his head would be an improvement for Madara. 

Now you kind of understand why Oreo Cookie calls him old: Madara Uchiha is _ancient._ You briefly wonder what he does in your dimension, but really, who you are to know what the mind of _Naruto_ ’s greatest villain holds. 

Huh, his eyes, you notice the distinct lack of Sharingan or Rinnegan in his grey, stormy eyes. Don’t Uchihas have black eyes? Maybe he is not exactly Madara himself, then, and you are stupid. The person before you doesn’t have to _isekai_ -ed. He can be just a very talented cosplayer of Naruto’s greatest villain, though being isekai-ed would be much more interesting. 

“Oh, that’s Choco-chan -” 

“I was asking for her _name_.” 

“Choco-chan!” 

Your nickname flowing through Bokuto’s lips makes you blink. You come back to your shitty reality where no Sharingan-bearing men are waiting for you. Bokuto looks at you with a question in his eyes and you instantly deduce that he forgot your name. A sweat rolls through your forehead.

You forgot his name too, but you were way too fucking embarrassed to even think about asking him to repeat it. But well, there is something very much endearing about how simple and sincere Bokuto is, making you want to tease him for just a little bit. 

You shift your weight to your right foot, slightly leaning forward as you put your free hand on your waist, “Did you forgot my name, Bokuto-senpai ~?” 

Your tone is saccharine sweet and you smile innocently as you see the gears turn in his head. Slowly, Bokuto turns around, sweat running through his forehead before he runs towards you, clasping his hands together and bowing down, “I did! Please don’t be mad!” 

Okay, you didn’t want that - oh, fuck, you just wanted to tease him a little, not bring him bowing down. You fidget nervously and look around, once more catching the brown eyes of Kuroo fellow. His gaze glints with, well, with _something_ you can’t really name. Maybe it is some sort of sadistic amusement? 

Wait, that’s not important! You look back to Oreo Cookie and he is still procrastinating himself before you. You swallow nervously, linking your hand to your chest. Well, you hope Oreo Cookie is not going to be angry - shit, he is totally going to be angry. You will die. You will die and your friends will never find your body. 

Again, you hate your life. 

“It’s alright, I forgot yours too! It’s Date, it’s Date [Name], please, please don’t bow!” you stutter out as you put your hands into the air, “No, no, no, that’s okay! I was joking, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, don’t kill me, I felt too comfortable because - because -”

Because of Atsu’s shirt. It always comes back to him, doesn’t it? Gosh, you miss him. You miss him and Osamu. You wish they were there with you. _Curse you, Oomi-sensei_ , you think to yourself, _I hope you step on the lego._

Bokuto straightens back and for a second, you are afraid he is going to be angry at you. He is not or you at least think so, because he smiles. He looks over his shoulder back to the brunet as he yells, “Her name is [Name], Kuroo-tan!” 

“I heard,” you hear a snarky retort. You bite down on your lip, stepping closer to Bokuto as the brunet moves away from the wall, closing the distance, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he introduces himself with a smirk, hand rubbing his right cheek, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

_Is it, Kuroo Tetsurou, or are you just being polite?_ You gulp, hand instinctually reaching to the hem of Atsu’s jacket. Even if the person wearing the piece of clothing is not your childhood friend, this gesture helps you relax a little. 

“N-Nice to meet y-you, Kuroo-senpai,” you reply in kind, playing with the cloth between your fingers, “B-Bokuto-senpai spoke kindly of y-you.” 

That’s not a lie! Oreo Cookie always sounded fond of him, though you don’t see appeal so far. He looks intimidating and scary. He is tall, you notice as he comes closer, a little bit taller than Bokuto and he was pretty close in height to Atsu and Osa. Huh, maybe it is just hair making him look taller? 

You can’t exactly read this Kuroo fellow very well. In contrast to Bokuto, he is a very guarded person, wearing fakeness as skilfully as Atsu and while that intentionally puts you at ease, now you feel nervous about that. You decide to instantly write his name on your mental list of future murders and people to get rid of when you conquer the world. Well, with that Uchiha blood, you kind of should have expected that. 

“That I can’t exactly believe,” he says suddenly, spooking you a bit. A nervous giggle leaves your mouth as you shuffle, hiding even more behind Bokuto’s broad shoulders, “Do I even want to know how you meet this airhead?” 

He raises his hand and directs his thumb towards Oreo Cookie, clearly indicating the mentioned _airhead_ is him. You are not somebody who will shy away from this particular tale, so your response is a little bit more confident, “He jumped into the fucking river before my eyes. It was the middle of the night too.” 

Madara-clone blinks at you, clearly not expecting that sort of answer, before he throws his head back, bursting into a laugh that makes you think of hyenas from the Lion King, “Didn’t hear that one before!” he stutters out between laughs, embracing his stomach as he keels down, “Good job, Bokuto!” 

“Hey, you are being super rude again, Kuroo,” Oreo Cookie comments idly, before glancing towards you, “Let’s just ditch him, Choco-chan.” 

“Like you ditched Date-chan before?” he points up with a smirk, straightening his back. Well, he kinda has a point, you can’t exactly disagree. Maybe Oreo Cookie just likes to ditch people, it is his hobby or something, “Is that how stars treat their friends? You wound me.” 

“Stop that!” 

Your lips twitch. All of those teasings are super cuter or whatever, but you don’t like standing in this stupid alley. Now that you have your guide, you lowkey just want to go back - to the hotel, to the gym, whatever, you just - just want to go back to your friends. 

It’s hard to cut through this merry atmosphere they created, but you do your best to insert yourself as you tug on Bokuto’s shirt. He shoots you a questioning look and you bite your cheek before opening your mouth, “Can you stop for a second with Madara Uchiha, Bokuto-senpai?” you ask him politely, trying to hold off the tension from appearing on your face, “I don’t want to sound rude-” 

“Did you just call me Madara Uchiha? Because if so, you sound rude already, Date-chan. I don’t look like him at all,” Kuroo interrupts you in the middle of the sentence. You react like a perfectly normal, functional member of the society and squeak like a mouse, hiding behind Bokuto’s back once more, “H-Hey, are you alright?” 

“Fucking pristine,” you laugh hysterically, “I just-just please, can we move from this place? It’s creepy and filthy- oh, god, who I am to talk about dirtiness, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You hide your face in Oreo’s clothes, wishing the earth could just open and swallow you whole. All of it just feels so awkward, so embarrassing, and you regret the words the moment they leave your mouth. A moment of silence appears between the three of you, your little outburst effectively rendering them speechless. 

_Fucking wonderful, [Name]_ , you think to yourself, _Look what you did, you dummy! You broke them. You broke them because you can’t even behave like a normal fucking human being for three seconds, gosh, fuck, fuck, fuck._

Then, you feel your Bokuto moving and you feel dread at the bottom of your stomach, afraid he will leave you alone _again_. Before you can react, though, his palm goes to yours, gently untangling it from his shirt and putting it in his warm hand. He strides ahead and leads you away, away, away from this stinky alley. 

“You kinda look like Madara Uchiha, you know, Kuroo,” you hear him chuckling as he breaks the tension, pulling you alongside him. Bye-bye, vending machine, you will not be missed, you think idly, following after him without any complaint, “With the hair, I mean.” 

“Hey, you know that stupid thing has a mind of its’ own!” 

This is not how hair works, though you can definitely empathize with the point. Your own hair certainly liked to do what it pleased, but, wait, should you start thinking about this bullshit? Probably not, but you feel stress swirling in the intricate, ugly patterns at the bottom of your tummy. 

_I just want to go back home._

“I just want to go back to the hotel, please,” you murmur, opening your eyes to peek at the Bokuto with hopelessness, “Please, senpai, can you lead me back to Atsu and Osa? I’m not feeling well.” 

He doesn’t even hesitate, the answer leaving his mouth so fast you can’t even blink, “Sure, let’s go.” 

_Just like that?_

He sounds so flippant about your request. Your breath hitches. He behaves as if you are not trouble or nuisance and truly doesn’t seem to mind your difficult, moody character. Isn’t it strange? The kindness he offers so easily, without a second thought, makes you want to lose your guard completely and cling to him just like you cling to all of your friends. 

That’s stupid. 

You don’t know him at all. You have trouble remembering his name, for fuck’s sake. No stereotyping people is one thing, but trusting that they will not let treat you like trash is another. The world is such an awful place, full of the people like Edward, people who will do everything to put you down the moment you show them any sort of vulnerability. You can’t be soft jellyfish around of them, but Bokuto kinda makes you want to take the leap and trust him. 

He is bad for you, for your heart, for your lost confidence. His smile and his warm, exciting exterior lit the flame in your chest. You want to nicer. You want to be more reckless. You want to be a better person. You want to not hesitate and offer a pack of wipes to a boy in need. 

You notice a smile playing on his lips as he peers at you from his shoulder. It is such a pleasant, amiable smile, the one that has you questioning if anybody ever looked at you as kindly as he does at this moment.

Bokuto Koutarou is a very dangerous person. Letting you fly around his orbit and, accommodating your unspoken wishes with ease. You wonder briefly if this is the influence of having an older sister before you shake your head, shoving the thought off your mind. 

You beam right back at him and squeeze his sweaty palm, not letting any of your inner thoughts out, “I d-don’t know how to thank you enough, Oreo-chan. You are such a kind person.” 

At that, a frown appears on his face and he averts his gaze. You wrinkle your nose in confusion as he stops at the entrance of your alley. The ocean of people you see before you is intimidating, to say the least, but you doubt it is why he stopped. You can’t help but gape at the throng of people moving through the streets. 

It is the image straight from Google: just hordes of people going in all of the world’s directions, all of them living their own lives and not caring about the strangers all around them. The rush hour has begun. 

You gulp, pressing your palm against Bokuto in sudden dread. The boy doesn’t react at all, staying quiet as you hear the steps of another person joining you. Kuroo shots him a concerned gaze, a crinkle forming between his eyebrows. 

“I don’t think I’m a kind person, [Name],” Oreo says under his breath, his eyes not meeting yours, “If I was, I wouldn’t leave you in a place like this on your own,” he utters softly against the wind, “The same goes for the today practice. I’m my team’s ace and I just disappoint all of them. I’m pretty careless, aren’t I?” 

You blink in surprise as he speaks out, not expecting the Tiger boy to still feel guilty about that. It is no longer a big deal for you - he already apologized and, most importantly, he came back even when he didn’t have to. 

“You are being a dummy right now,” you answer, a soft melody leaving your mouth as you do. You tug at his hand and when his eyes finally look down, you send him your most genuine smile, “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t come back to me. And, you know, you have already apologized for that! Do you think a bad person would do that?” 

“She is right, you owl bastard,” Kuroo adds with no real bite to his words, sounding surprisingly gentle, “You know that Akaashi is not angry at you. Nobody from your team is. They are just worried, like always. You have to come back to them soon.” 

“See? You were worried for nothing,” you hum a little, “All of it was because of me. Or wait, let’s just say it’s Atsu’s fault. If you don’t know who to blame, blame him - that’s the motto of the Miya family.” 

“I don’t even know this person, but I’m going to use it anyway,” the brunet comments and you guess, okay, this one time, you can let him tease your childhood friend, “So stop moping around already. We have the practice match today, you simpleton.” 

“Thank you, [Name], Tetsurou,” he speaks out softly, strangely gently for such an excitable person and you only shake your head as he smiles, “But who are you calling simpleton?! You have to learn how to properly praise people, cat bastard.” 

He slaps the back of Kuroo and you snicker when he pulls you ahead, towards the streets, and into the road full of people, the reality of the rush hour slowly dawning at you. Fuck, there are so many people in this world. Way too much. Don’t they have more important things to do, like laying in the bed and crying? You totally would prefer that to walk through the streets. 

A nervous giggle escapes your mouth, but Bokuto only presses your hand more, ready to conquer Tokyo. He is stopped by Kuroo, his hand reaching towards the oreo-haired boy’s shoulder and you don’t know if you should be angry or grateful for that, so you just elect to do nothing. 

“And you have to have more imaginative nicknames! You just copied mine,” he interrupts, stepping ahead of the two of you as he sighs deeply. Bokuto tries to dodge him, but Kuroo stops him quickly, “Can you wait for a minute? I have something to tell you.”

Okay, you don’t like it. You don’t like it at all. You peer at Oreo Cookie, but he doesn’t look scared at all. At most, he is baffled but willing to listen. Okay, so you have to escape on your own, that’s fine you guess. 

Before you can move, though, you detect his stormy eyes at your frame and shiver involuntarily, averting your gaze. He sighs deeply, sounding truly apologetic as he continues, “I hate to say that, okay? Don’t look at me like the villain, Date-chan, it hurts.” 

The words cause you to frown. Hello, you are not looking at him at all, so how the hell are you treating him like some sort of rogue? Somebody, you decide casually, listens way too much to Billie Eilish’s _Bad Guy_. You don’t blame him for that, though, it's a very catchy song. You are not afraid that he has some sort of the general Uchiha’s _bad boy_ aura, reminding you of all those male leads from dramas. 

Of course, you don’t watch a lot of cheap dramas. Most of them don’t have enough murders to hold your attention with the plot predictable and boring. You always end up changing it to something much more productive, like the documentary about the Roman Empire.

You shuffle awkwardly in your place, still holding Bokuto’s hand. You are not exactly sure what to say, but Bokuto has your back. 

“What are you talking about, Kuroo-chin? You are always the villain,” he shots nonchalantly and you don’t fight the snicker that leaves your mouth. Bokuto brightens at your laugh, his lips etching into the sunny smile. He turns towards Kuroo and whispers mischievously, “Don’t first years call you the Demon Senpai?” 

_The Demon Senpai?_ Okay, that’s not what you were expecting, but it is also good to know that the brunet has quite a nefarious reputation. The _demon_ title is something you always associated with the twins, so whatever image you had of brunet shatters, putting him on the list of threats to your future rule. 

Infamy, after all, always comes with a price, and if he will not work for you, then you will not let him work against you. You are not going to let him travel the galaxy building rebellion, becoming the mentor of the chosen one, and then bringing you down to your knees. You watched a show like that before and know better.

“That’s not me, but Yaku, you idiot,” Kuroo snorts, stretching his hand towards Bokuto’s head and ruffling his hair. Oreo chuckles at that, batting the palm away, “If I am the villain, then you are my stupid sidekick.”

“Hey, Kuroo!” he screams out outraged and you giggle, causing him to send you a betrayed gaze, “Not you too, Choco-chan!” 

“Sorry,” you mumble between giggles, raising your free hand to cover your mouth, “I just imagined you and him as Pinky and the Brain.” 

He tilts his head, confusion written on his face, and you guess he has no idea what you are talking about. You feel pity towards him. Somebody, you guess, didn’t have a childhood.

Kuroo, on the other hand, chuckles and reaches over toward ruffle _your_ head now. You bite down on your tongue and nearly whimper in pain as his fingers stroke your hair in a nearly fondly manner, “That is exactly what I was thinking about, Date-chan.” 

You instantly fluster, lowering your gaze. What is with people giving you headpats? Are you some sort of anime girl?! Not that you mind, it’s a pleasant feeling, but-but-but does it mean they are looking down on you? Oh demons, [Name], of course, they do! You are so short they have no choice but to look down on you! 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Bokuto complains, causing Kuroo to finally take his hand back. You don’t miss the feeling of his palm on your head at all. You also didn’t find it consoling in the slightest, haha, not at all. 

“Let’s watch it on our next movie night,” Kuroo waves his warm hand in a dismissive gesture before he clears his throat, “What do you plan to do about the practice? I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t see you. Akaashi thought we both skipped together in the morning, you know.” 

“But you are a boring old man who never skips school,” Oreo Cookie with a curious tip of his head. You arch your eyebrow at that, the words _old man_ being repeated in your mind time and again. 

You don’t quite understand why he keeps calling him old, but this seems to be somewhat of an inside joke that outsiders like you are not supposed to understand. Maybe. Or Kuroo found the Fountain of Youth, that’s possible too.

“No respect for your elders, huh?” the brunet runs his left hand through his own hair and tries to fix it, sighing when it doesn’t change its’ position at all, “I don’t know why are you talking about that as if that is a bad thing. You should take care of yourself too, you are not going to stay young forever.” 

“You are the same age as me,” Bokuto exclaims dramatically, causing Kuroo to gasp in pretend-outrage. Or at least you think it’s all play pretend with them, though it’s impossible to be hundred percent sure. 

“But, a-anyway,” you interject, peering at Kuroo with sheepish eyes, “If he was not in the school, why should he go to the practice? Like, it’s important or whatever, b-but wouldn’t it make his teacher suspicious?” 

If growing up with two volleyball-obsessed nerds taught you something, then it was the fact that the practice and practice matches are _holy_ , which is exactly why you try to be as delicate as you can. 

“We’re talking about Bokuto there,” Kuroo cocks his head at him and you pursue your lips, not exactly understanding. He wriggles his eyebrows, “He once walked in the middle of his class with tiger clinging to his arm.” 

“Oh, Nanaki-chin?” you ask with your index finger on the lips, remembering that he mentioned the tiger before. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Bokuto bobs his head excitedly, “We should go to the ZOO so he can meet him, Choco-chan. He is going to love you! Oh, and you can see other animals! They have komodo dragons, one of them once escaped and I ended up playing with it!” 

Going to the ZOO? Okay, you can definitely do that, as long as the komodo dragon will not want to play with you. No matter how awesome that sounds like, you are somehow fond of your limbs. You titter nervously, nodding once, “Okay, but let’s go with Atsu-chan and Osa-chan.”

Would Osamu punch komodo dragon for you? Probably. Atsumu, meanwhile, would scream in the background. 

“I’m fine with that!” Bokuto nods seriously and you smile radiantly at that. After all, it means he still plans to get you back to your friends, to your team. Is it manipulative of you? Probably, but you really need a hug or two, or maybe three. 

Maybe Edward is the vampire that doesn’t drink blood but sucks out energy and happiness, like the leveled-up dementor. Cthulhu, is he some sort of hybrid? Are you now part of the Fullmetal Alchemist? You don’t want to be a part of it, no matter how cool alchemy is! 

Bokuto swings your hands happily, totally oblivious to your thoughts. 

“Did you forget about the practice match between our schools?” Kuroo repeats the questions and your hand is promptly dropped in the middle of the swing, “You did forget, didn’t you? How polluted was that river water?” 

Very polluted, you guess, remembering how he forgot to go to the school too, though it is not something you should now focus on. Bokuto brings his hands to his chin as he wonders. He glances at you, then at Kuroo. Nervously, you start to spin the strand of your hair against your finger. Well, to quote Han Solo, you have a bad feeling about this. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he finally nods to himself, his hands going to your shoulder. His eyes, you notice, glimmer with the light you really, really don’t like, “Choco-chan, I’m going to show you my school!” he decides, smiling way too brightly.

Your mind blanks out. 

“What?” you squeak weakly, “You want me to go where?”

Your quiet protest is promptly ignored as Bokuto grabs your waist effortlessly and puts you on his shoulder, “Let’s go, Kuroo-tan!”

You are getting kidnapped _again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)
> 
> Do I even have to say how hard is Kuroo to write? Hope I got him and his relationship with Bokuto right. But yeah, with this chapter we officially met all of our 10 suitors - and one secret suitor, hehe ~ It only took, what 350k+ words? Yeah, it's insane. Thank you all for sticking with this fic and I hope you will continue enjoying it ~
> 
> About Kuroo's eyes being grey - going with manga there, instead of anime. Mostly because too many characters have brown eyes -m- Hope you don't mind!
> 
> Also, yes, I do remember that MC saw both Sakusa and Kuroo before in photos - but honestly, it makes sense for her to not remember them at all. So, she doesn't, the silly.
> 
> Thank you for reading~!


	50. In which you enter the owls' den (and you didn't even bring a gun).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m n-not pouting, I never p-pout, you don’t have the e-evidence,” you finally divulge as his benevolent future lord, your cheeks puffed in anger. He doesn’t treat your words seriously because you hear his chuckle resounding once more. You don’t have anything to throw at his stupid, dumb face, so you determine to cross your arms and huff loudly. 
> 
> “But you are pouting, Choco-chan, look, right there,” Bokuto pokes your cheek with his finger and you spy his sunny smile etched on his face, “See? A pout, right here.”

Your emotions are like roulette. They spin and spin through the wheel, not sure where to stay. Woozy, you breathe out heavily, trying to get hold of yourself until finally, the ball loses all of its momenta and pauses just on _hysteria_. Panic seizes control of your mind, blurring your vision and making it difficult to register anything happening around you. 

You don’t see, you don’t hear, everything is black, black, _black_. Then, the sensation of touch wakes up from your haze. The warmth of somebody’s palm bruises against the back of your knee joint and the reality of your situation comes back with vivid details. 

Haha, you are getting kidnapped again, who would have thought? Not you, of course, not you, how many times a person can get captured in one lifetime? It happens way too many times to you, the fuck. .

_You are still being kidnapped again._

Hello, your name is Date [Name] and your biggest feat yet is not losing your shit when people kidnap you. If being the future evil overlord doesn’t work for you, you always can give lectures about your experiences at the local university. 

_Yeah, positives, [Name], focus on positives._

So, there goes another positive: for somebody so careless and absent-minded, Bokuto is strangely gentle when he places you on his shoulder, not hurting the bruise on the side of your tummy. Yay! 

Nay for everything else. His palm coils around your thigh, holding you steady against his body _in theory_. In practice, the feeling of his hand against your skin spikes up hysteria in your chest. 

“Are you sure about taking Date-chan with us, Bokuto?” the words coming out of Kuroo’s sound disjointed, but they ground you, making it a little bit easier to breathe, “She doesn’t seem too happy about that.”

The understatement of the fucking century. You find the strength in yourself to question him shakily, your hands coming together, “What d-did you give me a-away? My screams or the f-fear on my face?” 

You are proud of yourself. The remark is a tad sarcastic and resentful, but your stuttering lacks the real bite, mostly because you are so fucking scared. Also, you don’t swear and that’s a big achievement of yours. 

What you are not proud of, though, is how you lean around your shoulder (and Bokuto’s shoulder) to steal a glance at Discount Madara Uchiha. Your excuse is how he sounded somewhat awkward, perplexing edge to his tone. You couldn’t see his expression before, facing a completely different direction and all, but you kind of want to. 

You lament your decision the moment you feel his stormy eyes on yourself. Fuck, if he doesn’t make you more nervous. You hastily dodge his gaze, turning around. It is hard to swallow curses when you are so nervous, but you were doing fine so far. Kuroo doesn’t help you though, no, he fucking doesn’t, the asshole. 

“I’m not saying to leave her here all alone, okay? It’s dangerous to leave a girl on her own, I’m not suggesting that. I’m not a bad guy, but,” he continues, not caring about you at all. You fight back the urge to glance off to see if his genuine tone matches his face, “I don’t think taking her with us is a good idea, she looks scared.”

It’s hard to believe that Uchiha is on your side, really, really hard, so you are going to not trust that. Paranoia is your best friend. 

“N-Not more dangerous than being k-kidnapped,” you whisper under your breath, fingers grasping into the material of Atsu’s jacket. His cologne hits your nose and you take in the smell. It comforts you just a bit, “H-He is right, please leave me there to die.” 

Your eyes fall down and any sort of solace you felt disappears instantly. Was the ground always so far away? It was not, right? Haha, right? If you Bokuto dropped you now, you could _die_. You are no longer scared. Now, now you are absolutely terrified.

If the secret agents of the FBI are in Japan, this is the moment they should leap out of the corner, guns blazing, screaming _FBI, open up_. You guess it is difficult when there is no door 

“Nah, we are not going to, don’t worry, Choco-chan. I promised to help you, so it’s my responsibility” Bokuto replies carelessly, his voice vibrating in the air. A giddy giggle flows out of your mouth, but it’s not out of relief. Oh, no, those are your nerves, sir, “It is going to be so fun.”

“Is it?” Kuroo asks dubiously, practically reading your mind. His smile is so _smug_ though, making it hard to sympathize, “If you want to take somebody on the date, there are better places, Bokuto.” 

Yeah, you agree. You just don’t understand what is fun about visiting schools. Those buildings are jails for students, are they not? Seriously, why would you want to tour a school of all places in Tokyo? 

“I-I’m not talking about dates, Duck Hair!” he yells out instantly, his voice breaking just a bit, “I just want t-to show Choco-chan cool things!” 

You bat your eyelashes, waiting for the authorities. They don’t arrive, of course, they don’t. Fucking hell, you are left alone with this problem, so like a completely sensible human being, you decide to fight for your dear life. 

You know enough about kidnappings to understand that there is a very high chance you are not getting out alive of this whole ordeal, so you are not going to hold back. Fuck appeasement, something like that would never work. It is time to strike back, not holding back! You are going to be a bitch to the bitter end.

You free your hands from the jacket and propel yourself against Bokuto’s back, turning sideways toward the boy. His cheerful smile doesn’t make you stumble, oh, no, you don’t hesitate as you reach to his neck, jamming your nails into his skin. 

You don’t expect him to _giggle_. 

“Choco-chan, stop it! That tickles!” he shouts out between his laughter, flashing you a smile you reluctantly call _adorable._ You just continue to watch him with big eyes, not caring how he reaches to your hand and gently brings it down, “You don’t have to worry about anything, okay, bunny? Trust me.”

All of the words, even curses you like so much, disappear from your mind. He simply leaves you _speechless_ and what’s worse, he doesn’t even notice that. He stretches out his shoulder and you bounce a bit, fingers hastily grasping the material of Atsumu’s jacket once more. 

Oreo Cookie ignores the horror in your features, sending you one more smile before his eyes slip back to Kuroo. He is so cheerful, so excitable, so kind, but all of that is just a front because he is still a dirty people snatcher, a criminal who is not even smooth. 

“Kuroo-tan,” he calls out to the brunet with a wink, a challenge clearly written in his tone. He strides ahead, condescendingly patting Kuroo’s shoulder, “You are just afraid to lose before your juniors! You know I’m not gonna be blocked by your rooster head anymore!”

He passes through his friend, not letting him answer anything. To your dread, he doesn’t stop, just continues full speed ahead without looking back. 

“I would like to see that,” Kuroo’s answer rushes out of the brunet’s mouth. Now that he is behind Bokuto, you can see his expression and notice easily that there is something fiddly lingering to the edges of his lips, “Are you sure you are not the one who is afraid?” 

You hear the distress in the brunet’s voice, but to be honest, it’s hard to imagine the hotshot Uchiha embarrassed. Bokuto promptly leaves him behind, stepping out from the alleyway to the main street and joining the crowds with you dangling from his fucking shoulder. So, yeah, Kuroo’s words didn’t touch your captor at all. 

Your cheeks rose with a pink blush as the gazes of the passers-by rest on you. Suddenly, you feel very much self-conscious, but in your defense, it is difficult to not feel that way when there are so many people gawking at you. 

Edward’s words appear on your face and your hand instinctually lunges toward your sweater’s pocket only to remember you have thrown your wet wipes at his face. Yeah, your hibiscus wet wipes. You left them with the literal vampire who murders kittens. _Good job, [Name], truly. You deserve to be kidnapped._

You sniff, shifting your hands to your face to use the sleeves of your brown sweater to rub your cheeks. Stupidly, you are trying to wipe them clean and as you attempt to do so, you spot Kuroo emerging from the backstreet with a mocking smile playing on his face. 

You are not surprised or impressed by his ability to find you so quickly, nope, not at all. Even if you disregard Bokuto’s height, he is not exactly behaving covertly with you hanging on his shoulder. Yeah, you are stupidly easy to see, so he quickly catches up to your circus, though he stays a step behind Bokuto, just beside you. If he thinks that puts you at ease, he is very much wrong.

“You know, Bokuto, I still don’t know where you found Date-chan,” he starts all innocent, even batting his eyes. You don’t trust that act at all, he is way too cunning for shit like that, “I doubt she was living in that river unless her gills suddenly disappeared.” 

Well, Mr. Kuroo, what exactly do you know about people who are hiding things? Are you saying you are hiding things too? You knew that he shouldn’t be trusted, damn it! There is your evidence. Wait, are you judging people too soon again? But, but, but, you judged Edward correctly, Kuroo could - 

Oh, that’s really complicated, is that not? 

“You are so stupid, Kuroo. Choco-chan is not a fish.” Bokuto shakes his head so violently that his hair grazes against your shoulder, tickling you. Pot calling the kettle black, you suppose as you tap your fingers nervously.

Yeah, anyway, what an astute observation. Should you thank him for that? Suddenly, a shiver runs through your neck as you continue to endure Kuroo’s gaze. 

Something about his eyes is very much unsettling, though you have a hard time discerning why exactly you feel so vigilant. If you had to guess, you would say that Discounted Madara Uchiha seems to know too much even without Sharingan shining in his eyes. He is so cunning and sneaky that you can’t help yourself from concluding that he has a hidden agenda. 

In a way, he is still similar to Atsumu, but while you know your friend is just stupid, you have no idea what Kuroo’s demeanor may mean. You can only hope he is not trying to sell your organs or sacrifice you to the Blood God.

“Now, now, don’t put words in my mouth,” he grins cockily, “I would rather call her a mermaid. Date-chan, your uniform is not from any Tokyo school, but I swear I saw it before. Not to mention your accent.”

Well, he kinda has a point, you certainly feel like a mermaid with Bokuto holding you like. If you think about it, you never were a big fan of them, mostly because you still remember how in Hans Christian Andersen’s tale the Little Mermaid decided to die for the stupid prince. Like, why would she do that? It is so unfair! It was not enough that she gave away her voice and tail for him. It was not enough that every step she took felt like walking on the shattered glass.

Mister Andersen broke your little, fragile heart all those years ago. The Little Mermaid deserved so much better and you didn’t hesitate to tell it that to your archnemesis. In answer, he pulled your french braid and called you a dummy. You were always a very kind, respectful individual, so kicked him in his stupid face. 

“An accent?” Bokuto reiterates, his head tilting in fluster. His hair tickles your arm again, but you hold in the giggle as he continues, nodding judiciously, “You know, if I think about it both Tsumya and Myam-san talked in the same way. I think it’s really cute, it is, right?” 

Your nose scrunches in puzzlement. You really don’t see anything _cute_ about the way you speak. It is just how you always were talking, mostly because you never learned _proper_ Japanese, no matter how much your mother tried to fix that. It was something your stupid brother used to mock you about but to be honest, he poked fun about everything you did, but you remained a petty bitch and never changed your speech. 

So, yeah, your dialect is supposedly much more melodious than standard Japanese, but nevertheless, it is nothing compared to the sweetness of Russian. Others claimed it is harsh, but did they ever hear German? Allegedly, every word in German sounds the order to shoot, so how can you not like those long, complicated words? 

Absentmindedly, you bring your finger to rest on your lip, “I’m from Amagasaki like Atsu and Osa-chan,” you explain oblivious to everything happening around you, “It is near Kobe, you know, in Hyogo prefecture,” you blink, finally becoming aware that you have said too much. Hastily, you add, “Now that you know don’t stalk me, please.” 

Kuroo chuckles. 

“I don’t plan to stalk anybody any time soon, don’t worry, Date-chan,” Kuroo teases, his eyes crackling with mischief. You don’t trust his words, not truly, so you twist your lips in a frown that is promptly ignored, “I thought that I heard Kinki dialect,” he hums a little, a smooth melody leaving his lips, “You are from Inarizaki, then?”

Wait, what? You were just thinking about languages, but those things are not as important now. Your eyes shine a little

You throw him a quick, dubious gaze that is met with another cocky smile, “I’m from Nekoma, Date-chan. We have a match against your school on Monday. Let me guess, you are their manager?”

You will only attend that match if, and only if, you survive until Monday which is becoming more unlikely with every minute. You sigh lightly, trying to recall what you have heard about Nekoma, but it’s hard to find anything in the corners of your mind. 

You can't ever be blamed for that, though, you are just too busy remembering crucial things like the itinerary of Archduke Franz Ferdinand on the day he was assassinated. Who would have thought that one small error of the driver could cause the Great War, the war so great that nobody will ever need to cause bloodshed, right? Haha, spoilers, the War to End All Wars didn’t end anything. 

“Yup, yup,” you answer with lips formed in the thin line and under their eyes burrowing at you, you giggle awkwardly, “I guess so. Who would have thought, right?” you suddenly pause, your eyes narrowing, “Wait, what the fu - heck? I m-mean, what sort of crazy coincidence is that?” 

Kuroo shrugs, eyelids closing for a mere second. The smirk from his face shifts into something nearly trustworthy, seemingly blissful, “Some would call it destiny, Date-chan.” 

You snort at that, hand moving to cover your mouth. Your destiny was to get yelled at by Vampire? That sucks, that sucks so fucking much that you can’t ever get angry at him. Your days are just disastrous and if you ever return to Amagasaki, you are going to have trauma pertaining to the school trips. Did something half-good even happen during it? No! Everything good ends up becoming bad sooner or later. 

Cthulhu, you hate your life. 

Maybe he is right and it was not the fault of Sendai or Miyagi, or even Puffykawa. From the start, it was you, the black sheep of your family, who somehow ends up tangled in the worst situations. You are not even doing anything stupid! Okay, wait a moment, you are not doing anything stupid now. 

The current situation is not destiny. It is the decision of your coach, of Bokuto and Rizekai, and even yours, damn it. Och, yeah, Rizekai, about him - where the fuck did he hide? Should you feel bad about abandoning him after he left you behind? The answer is: you shouldn’t, but the outside world is scary and the freshman is afraid of you. People are going to eat him.

And there are so many people. Some of them are still gawking at you like idiots. You drop your hands and cast your eyes down, doing your best not to hear whispers and not to see looks. You chew on your lower lip, nerves swerving at the bottom of your tummy. 

You hate it, you hate it so fucking much that you start to think it is the worst experience of your life and you are counting everything that happened to you so far. You lived through a lot of embarrassing things in your life but nothing could ever prepare you for the mortification of traveling on somebody’s arm through all of Tokyo. 

At this point, you think you would prefer to go back to Starbucks and face Edward rather than spend a minute more with both Bokuto and Kuroo. At least he has some weaknesses like sun, holy water, garlic, and wooden stakes. You are pretty damn sure that Bokuto and Kuroo have none. 

You take a deep breath and try your best to look deeply into Bokuto’s yellow eyes as tearful words roll out of your tongues, “I don’t want to attend your practice, senpai. I want to go home, p-please.” 

Cthulhu, you sound so pathetic it is hard not to cringe. You strain every muscle in your face to not move them and show it. 

“It will be fun, trust me just like I trusted you, Choco-chan,” he says back, missing your entire point and breaking your heart with that bright smile of his, “I’m not going to let you down,” he promises earnestly with a nod. 

Immediately, you feel like an awful person and that’s so silly of you, truly. You always were terrible. You didn’t care about anybody else but yourself and the twins and still, you don’t, you don’t because caring hurts. You prefer to set all bridges behind you aflame. 

“I want to help you, you know,” Bokuto whimpers and you notice his lips quivering. You nearly feel bad about screaming at him, but then he moves ahead, ignoring all of your protests, “I will be sure to take you back after the practice, don’t worry about that.”

So you are not going to be sacrificed to some sort of the old god, that’s good to know. What is not good to know, though, is his plans pertaining to your person. You don’t like going to your school, why should you want to go to somebody else’s? 

Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense! 

“I’m n-not c-consenting to any of that,” the words rush out of your mouth as you desperately try to hold to Bokuto’s shoulder. You shuffle yourself a bit, making sure not to touch the bruised side of your tummy, “T-This is kidnapping. You are c-committing a crime, Bokuto-senpai, I hope you are aware of that!” 

“Consenting?” Oreo Cookie repeats your word as he walks. You are unable to see his face, but the confusion is evident in his tone. You quirk your eyebrow, not believing that your kidnapper can be so dense, “Hey, Kuroo-tan -” 

He can’t be serious, right? Right?! Even Atsu knows the meaning of the word and you are pretty damn sure that there is no human being that is stupider in this world. Oh, fuck, this is why they got along so well! 

On the other side, you hope Atsumu understands the meaning of the word consent, so how in hell Oreo Cookie does not? You are living in the 21st century, for goodness’ sake! 

“It means Date-chan doesn’t agree to whatever you are doing,” Kuroo explains patiently, not showing any sort of confusion about Bokuto’s lack of knowledge. He shrugs as your eyes fall on him, “He is a simpleton.” 

Is he? Or, or, or, wait. Maybe Bokuto doesn’t know the word consent because he, just like you, is forever single and not ready to mingle. Then, it would be okay for him not to know, right? 

“Do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend, Bokuto-senpai?” you ask him, wrinkling your nose. Kuroo’s eyes burrow into you instantly and the next words leaving your tongue are very much less sure, “D-Did you ever had somebody l-like that?” 

Bokuto stops instantly, but you have trouble looking at him from your position. You push yourself against his back, turning sideways so you can look at his face. To your surprise, the smile he gives you is nearly shy as he averts his gaze, continuing on his way. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” he nearly shouts, way too loudly. You squirm a bit, the volume hitting you hard with you being so close, “I used to have one, but right now I’m free - I mean I’m single - No, no, no, I mean I’m not dating anyone at the moment!” 

You nod to yourself, bringing your hand under your chin. It’s a little bit strange how he doesn’t know about consent, then. You feel sorry for that former girlfriend of his. Okay, Oreo Cookie is nearly as sweet as the snack you named him after and you doubt he would do something ungentlemanly, but still, it’s not normal.

You blink and Bokuto finally moves ahead. You are very much glad about it, mostly because the faster he arrives at his destination, the faster you are getting dropped from your embarrassing position. You steal a glance towards him and form your lips in a grimace as you notice Oreo Cookie’s ears being vividly red. 

The sheer _audacity_ of this man. Your anger is not exactly ignited, more like sparked, just a tiny itty bit. He was the one who lifted you from the ground. He has no right to feel embarrassed about that! Now, you are getting flustered just because he is blushing, damn it. 

You shift your gaze back to Kuroo. Nonetheless, his face is so hard to read, the smugness of his expression leaving you very much confused. 

“Didn’t take you for somebody so bold, Date-chan,” Kuroo teases, his smirk becoming way too mocking for your liking. You crinkle your nose at him, not knowing how exactly what you asked for is _bold_. He sighs at your dumb-struck expression, “You seriously don’t know? That sounded like you were hitting on him.” 

You swallow the curse that begs to be spoken, tilting your head in confusion as you are very much lost at this point. You show him your hands, before quickly placing them down, trying to not fall, “See? Not hitting him! I’m not a violent person, even when people abduct me.” 

That’s not true, but he doesn’t need to know that at this point of your relationship. You have to stay mysterious, just a bit, so he will not know what to expect out of you. What he can’t predict, after all, you can use against him. 

Out of all possible things, though, you didn’t think he would chuckle at you, his expression shining with sincerity even as he keeps smiling like the Cheshire Cat, “The other meaning of that word, shrimpy.” 

Did he just compare you to the shrimp? You like shrimps and would love to eat them now. Osamu, you think, put some shrimps in your bento, though it will not help you much in your current situation. Your lunch box was left in the gym under the watchful gaze of your friend, so, yeah, you are probably not getting that back. 

In your imagination little shrimps wave their little tails in goodbye. Damn it. 

Your silence is taken as even further confusion it seems because the Totally-Not-Madara clears his throat and clarifies, “I’m pretty sure you were flirting just now,” he stretches his neck and shoulder, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

You blink sheepishly. 

Once.

Twice. 

Very slowly, you repeat his words in your mind. Flirting - your mind helpfully points up - means behaving as if you are interested in somebody. You flirt when you want to get into a relationship, and you would never, ever dream about trying to get a b-boyfriend or s-something. 

Nice joke, but that’s ridiculous, because what you said - what have you said - what exactly did you say? Slowly, you remind yourself of the words, remembering you just asked if he had a significant other, so that was nothing flirtatious, right? Yeah, no way. 

You click your lips, ready to rebuff Kuroo when you spy with the corner of your eye Bokuto’s face. The moment he notices your gaze, he quickly averts his, ears reddening significantly. The atmosphere feels awkward, or rather, _he_ seems awkward as he does his best to ignore you. He just strides ahead and you have no idea why he acts so - so - 

The realization falls on you with the power of an erupting volcano. The word _flirting_ echoes through your mind, again and again, dooming you even further. Your head spins and you are very much glad you are not walking on your own, otherwise, you would be splayed on the ground, dead. 

A curse plays on your lips, but you swallow it, not wanting to irritate Bokuto even more. He has to be so humiliated and angry already, and you don’t want to give him more reasons to drop you dead on the ground of the outrage. 

You dared to flirt with somebody like him out of all the people on this miserable planet. How could you? He is tall, handsome, muscular, and kind, far too good for somebody like you. He is so drastically out of your league it’s not even funny. You have no right to _woo_ him, be it by accident or purpose. 

From the very start, you were ogling him, having u-uncouth thoughts, and playing c-coy, and you should not, not you, never you. You are just good, old _you_ , Date [Name]. Your own parents didn’t want to hear from you. Your brother didn’t want you. Your former classmates detested you. 

You do not deserve love.

You do not want love. 

You don’t. 

No person on the earth will ever want you and you are okay with it, you really are. You made peace with it and you are fine, you just want Atsumu and Osamu to be happy. Your question was brought by curiosity only, not by only wanting to start a relationship. You are just a silly, silly girl. 

How are you supposed to say all of that? How are you supposed to open up like that to the stranger? How can you explain that you were just stupidly curious? It is impossible, no matter how kind Bokuto is and he is kind, far too kind. He must be feeling so insulted, so humiliated to have somebody like you flirt with him. 

So, your only solution? Somebody needs to kill you now, _please_ , preferably with a bang. You wait for the second, but, of course, when you want to die, suddenly nobody wants to kill you. It is so typical you can’t say you are surprised. You feel only disappointment flowing through your veins as you drop your gaze, taking a deep breath. 

“B-Bokuto-senpai?” you start hesitantly, fiddling with your fingers, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you u-uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to, seriously I s-swear!”

“You-you didn’t mean to?” Bokuto repeats after you, his voice shaky. You can’t see his face, you don’t want to, but somehow you feel as if you chose the wrong dialogue option. He chuckles awkwardly, “Haha, of course, you didn’t!” 

Did - did you make him insecure? Oh, god, oh no-

“No! No, no, oh, not like that, I’m so sorry!” you squeak out hastily, raising your head and turning towards him. Your heartbeat accelerates, exceeding all speed limits. You are pretty damn sure your heart is about to leap off your chest, “I’m not pretty enough to even think about-about f-flirting with somebody like you, Bokuto-senpai! You d-deserve so much better than me.” 

You hope passers-by are enjoying the spectacle of your life. Maybe you should start selling tickets, at least you would have enough money for uber. 

You hear Bokuto murmuring something under his breath. You can’t pick out the words, though, even with being so close. You scrunch your nose, baffled, “What? What did you say?”

Such eloquence, such grace, truly, you are master of speechcraft. You blush, feeling super stupid at the words, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind much. He opens his lips and lets something akin to a frustrated growl. 

“Call me Oreo Cookie!” he shouts out suddenly, spooking you a bit. His arm tightens around your legs, but he doesn’t look in your direction at all. You whimper quietly, the volume of his voice making you cringe. Okay, so he is always loud, but this time, his voice is a roar that causes people to look at both of you even more, “What are you even talking about?! You are so pretty, Choco-chan, you are the prettiest! Do you even look into the mirror?” 

You hear those words, you understand those words, but somehow, they just flow through your ears, not leaving anything behind in your mind. 

“Oh my god, you bitch,” the curse rolls out of your tongue smoothly, mostly because you are way over caring about his delicate brain that can’t swallow swearing, “I’m not p-pretty! Like, not at all! Look at me! I’m ugly!” 

To reinforce your point, you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them, making a stupid expression. Oreo Cookie dips his head, putting it uncomfortably close to yours. Once more, his breath tickles your face and you giggle nervously, causing his lips to twist into a pout. It is funny how can he look part-embarrassed, part-angry. 

It is kinda cute too. 

Would be much cuter if he didn’t just lie to you. Seriously, what is with him calling you pretty? You are not pretty! As far as you know he was spending time with Atsu, not Rin! So why, oh why, is he calling you by that embarrassing nickname that belongs to Suna and him only? It nearly feels wrong, kind of. 

“I’m looking at you all the time and I know that you are pretty, Choco-chan,” he grumps, air puffing out of his mouth straight into your face. You grimace a bit at that, but Bokuto seems to read it as the reaction to his words because he adds, “You are beautiful! Lovely! Gorgeous! Hey, Kuroo, tell her!” 

“Huh?” Kuroo squeaks out and when you spin towards him, you notice that his face becomes red. You bat your eyes, confused, which only embarrasses him more, “I-I-I, ugh, shut up, Bokuto!”

“Hey, Kuroo -”

“No, I’m not,” you interject angrily, your nose wrinkling with fury as you shift your attention back to Bokuto, “Stop making him say stuff that is not true! And stop lying, you liar! Liar, liar, pants on the fire!” 

“My pants are not burning!” 

“Well, they should be! Or no, wait, those belong to Atsumu!”

* * *

“This is the famous Fukurodani High School, Date-chan,” Kuroo voices with an upbeat tone. He smiles lazily, the evil bastard when he catches your death glare. One of his hands leaves the pockets and he points it toward the luminous building on your right, “Sometimes, Bokuto even remembers to come here on his own.” 

“Hey, Kuroo-tan, this is my first absence this year,” Oreo Cookie says with a pout forming on his lips. You don’t bring up the fact that the school year just started, but you want to some extent. 

“Let’s thank Akaashi for that,” the brunet sends him a lazy time, though his eyes stay on you. You wonder if he is trying to cheer you up. It would be somewhat sweet of him, but unfortunately, you are way past this appeasement treatment. Oh no, bitch, you are invading Poland, “Stop pouting, Date-chan, it wasn’t so bad.” 

You growl, but your gesture only causes him to snicker.

To start with, he is right, your little adventure was not so bad. Oh, no, it was worse. 

Dear Ancient One, you are so tired. The journey to Bokuto’s school was exhausting, mostly because arguing with dumb people who hold dumb opinions takes a lot of energy. You don’t know why _Oreo Cookie_ is persistently calling you _angelic_ and _enticing_ , the embarrassing adjectives that Kuroo _oh-so_ helpfully threw in his way. You are not _beautiful_ , but Bokuto is a stubborn mule, just lying and lying. 

He refused to acknowledge how terribly he was deceiving you or to let you go. You tried it all, be it diplomacy, espionage, or open warfare. Everything felt on deaf ears and you couldn’t help but curse in your mind the Swords and Firearms Possession Control Law. 

Guns, you are pretty sure, could resolve all of your problems. 

Secondly, Bokuto is pouting, not you. You are swimming in the rightful anger that should not be trivialized by calling it this way. You blow out the huff of air from your mouth, turning your head away from him. 

His chuckle deepens, but you ignore it, focusing on the _famous_ Fukurodani Academy. You have to lean a little to look at the building as Bokuto and Kuroo direct their feet over there. It is a lot less impressive than you expected it to be, which just shows how much Inarizaki screwed your perception.

No school can compare the luxurious complex your headmaster claims to be school, but Fukurodani at least tries. You are going to give it a gold star for its efforts, mostly because it’s not like Bokuto’s academy is ugly. As it happens, you think it is kind of pretty with the vast amount of windows covering the walls.

It has to be very comfy during lazy, gray mornings, but also ridiculously hot when it’s sunny. Like today. Well, that sucks for the students, not that their fate means a lot for you. 

“I’m n-not pouting, I never p-pout, you don’t have the e-evidence,” you finally divulge as his benevolent future lord, your cheeks puffed in anger. He doesn’t treat your words seriously because you hear his chuckle resounding once more. You don’t have anything to throw at his stupid, dumb face, so you determine to cross your arms and huff loudly. 

“But you are pouting, Choco-chan, look, right there,” Bokuto pokes your cheek with his finger and you spy his sunny smile etched on his face, “See? A pout, right here.” 

He laughs at your sullen expression, stepping through the gate of the school with you still placed on his shoulder. You swing your legs in the air idly with your face twisted in a scowl, not looking at anybody. 

“Hey, Bokuto! What are you doing there?” one of the students yells out to Oreo Cookie with a smile, not even batting an eye at the girl carried on his shoulder, “I didn’t see you in the class. We all thought you were sick! This is what your sister told Nakamura-sensei anyway.” 

Just another Friday for him, huh? You wonder briefly how many people have Bokuto kidnapped to his school so far. You can’t be first if his fellow students behave like that, but at the same time, he is the person who brought the tiger to his school. Or was it a lion?

“You should know better, idiots never get sick,” Kuroo points up and you nod with the serenity of the sage. After all, you don’t get sick easily and neither does Atsumu. The brunet cocks his head at Oreo Cookie, “Your sister covered your ass again, you bastard owl.” 

“Shut it up, old man,” Bokuto retorts, sticking his tongue out at Madara before sending a wide smile towards the students, “Hi, Saka-tan, At-chan! Sorry for making you worry, I was - I’m feeling better now, I would never l-lie, after all! Haha!” 

Not only he is a dirty liar, but he is also a poor one. You roll your eyes, but the girl who was traveling with the student bobs her head in agreement, “Of course you wouldn’t, Bokuto-chan! Just so you know, I think you should avoid Suzumeda-chan for the moment, she was really, really angry at you! Even Akaashi-kun had a hard time calming her down.” 

“How is he supposed to avoid somebody in the same club, Haruka-chan?” the student from before questions and shakes his head, “Kick the cats’ butts for us!” he adds, throwing a smirk toward Kuroo, “They deserve it!” 

“I will be sure to, Saka-tan!” 

You were just ignored, weren’t you? Fuckers. Your head drops down as you groan, doing your best to muffle the greetings coming from other members of the student body and the staff. Seriously, nobody cares that he is just committing a crime? Not even one person? People are awful, are they not? You wrinkle your nose in wonder. This is exactly what you needed: the reason to go back to your apartment and shut the door close. 

You presume the measly consolidation you get is the fact that those people don’t gawk at you like on the wild animal in the cage. You wonder how long are you supposed to live through this humiliation, you are already at Oreo Cookie’s school. Can you go, please? Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on the top? You can even agree to not notify the police, as long as you can go. 

Your thought process is suddenly stopped with the _slam_ of the opening doors. If you had to guess, you just arrived at the gym of Fukurodani. You shuffle a bit, propelling yourself against Bokuto’s back. The interior of the gym is very much standard, but, for now, you focus your gaze on the people in it. 

And there are so, so many people in the gym and all of their eyes shift toward you the moment Bokuto steps through the exit. Your heartbeat speeds up anxiously in your chest and your fingers grasp Oreo’s shoulder a little bit harder.

“Hey, hey, hey!” the merry laugh of Bokuto hits your fragile ears and you grimace, but he continues, not noticing, “Did you miss me?!”

You hate your life. 

All of the movement ceases for a second, people stop in time. The only noise you hear is one coming from the ball hitting the floor. Bokuto laughs, shattering the illusion, and soon, you take in the clamor of several feet dashing towards you as calmly as you can. Yeah, that means you are not calm at all, but you are trying! 

Okay, that’s a lie. You bite down the scream that threatens to leave your mouth as you turn your terrified eyes to the doors slamming close with a loud _whoosh_. Your heart sinks down to your stomach. The moment they do, several voices ring out. 

“Bokuto-san!”

“Bokuto!” 

“Bocchan!” 

Bokuto’s smile can rival the sun and you can guess it without even looking at him. You giggle nervously under your breath and as if in the answer, Kuroo takes his hands out of his pockets, fingers firmly holding a bottle. He steps forward to the other side of Bokuto and places his free palm against the boy’s neck. 

Bokuto jumps out in surprise and you squeak, clutching desperately into the material of the shirt. The ground looks so, so far away and in fear, you close your eyes, not so sure about the whole dying thing right now. Really, is that how you die? This is kinda pathetic, to be honest. 

You always wanted to be gone in the blaze of glory, not because somebody dropped you on your head. Well, fuck, you hope the afterlife’s wifi is decent at the very least. The sweet release of death, here you come! 

“Your hands are so cold, you bastard! What it was for?!” 

Oh, good! Good? Maybe good. You are still alive, you think. You are not sure, so it’s better if you just keep your eyes tightly shut. 

You don’t feel yourself falling down, but you still prefer to keep your eyes tightly shut. This way, you can pretend you don’t exist. You breathe down, enjoying the beauty and bliss of the void around you. Nobody will shatter it, haha, it’s impossible, because there is only you in this emptiness. 

Only, your paradise is destroyed way too easily with Kuroo’s words resounding in your dream. You would never dream about Madara Wannabe, so yeah, you are still alive, wonderful, “Put Date-chan down before you kill her, you clown.” 

You shudder at his voice, the significance of what he is saying is lost for the moment. Then, you open your eyes, twinkling with confusion. _Did he just? Did he?_ Is he trying to _help_ you? No, impossible! He, whose appearance mirrors one of the most villainous people ever born, can’t be attempting to save you from this super embarrassing position. 

Except, he is helping you. This is your reality. Well, damn, about time! Haha, you are not going to complain about that! Okay, that’s a lie. You are going to complain a lot, just not out loud.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that Choco-chan,” Bokuto nods, his hair once more flickering against your skin. He slowly and gently reaches toward your waist, “It’s Kuroo’s fault anyway, he was the one who wanted to spook me.” 

You swallow down the whimper that threatens to spill from your lips as he touches the side of your tummy, fingers brushing against your bruise. You are doing your best to just ignore the pain as he finally brings you down. 

“Bokuto-san, where were you? Katsumi-san was worried about you,” the velvet-like, smooth voice asks suddenly, but Bokuto is not spooked by the question as he settles you down, “And who is this? Are you causing trouble?” 

You giggle nervously, fingers hooking into Bokuto’s arm as you finally feel the floor under your shoes. Your muddy shoes. Your muddy, wonderful shoes. Oreo Cookie smiles at you brightly, before turning his head towards, towards -

As you glance in the same direction, your breath hitches. Your eyes meet the metallic ones of the most lovely boy you have ever seen. Instantly, you feel a need to apologize to both Osamu and Atsumu. They are going to be _your_ prettiest always, but the slender boy before you is Narcissus, the most beautiful man from Greek mythology.

You wouldn’t blame him for falling in love with his mirror image, seriously. How could you see such grace and not want to worship him? You are not worthy of basking in his presence. You are not worthy!

“Please,” he says in your direction, bowing his head a little. You blink, bewildered, why the fuck would somebody so lovely bow to you? “If he is causing you trouble, don’t feel bad about saying so.”

He is talking to you. He is talking to you! Red alert! Wait, the red alert is for communism - Oh, it doesn’t matter now. You gasp, hand clenching next to your heart, and blush accordingly. Without thinking much, you skip behind Bokuto, your hands naturally reaching to his sleeve. You snuffle as you lean, partially hiding behind his muscular silhouette. 

“Hey, Akaashi!” Bokuto calls out to the lovely boy. A wrinkle appears on your nose. The one he was so scared of is this pretty person? “That’s mean! I never cause trouble!” he claims proudly, something you very much doubt of the literal kidnapper. As if sensing your thought, he looks down to you, and his lips twist into a bright smile, “That’s Choco-chan! Is she not the prettiest? 

Hundreds of eyes burrow into your frame at that. You tug on Bokuto’s shoulder, trying to hide yourself even more, but that doesn’t quite work as you find very quickly. Damn athletes and damn their sight. 

“Since when did Fukurodani have three managers?!” somebody screams loudly, so loudly in fact that you find yourself grimacing, “That’s not fair! I will never forgive you!”

What is there to forgive, though? You fiddle with the cloth in your fingers and look from behind your meatshield. You notice a punk closing to your location with an angry expression on his face easily enough, even if you don’t want to see him. His eyes rest on you and suddenly, he staggers. 

“We don’t have a third manager, though,” another person asks, the confusing edge lingering to the words, “Don’t we, Kaori-chan?” 

“We don’t,” comes the answer, before the girl shakes her head and screams out, “Hey, Koutarou-kun! Give me back my notes! Do you know how embarrassing it was to say I don’t have homework with me? Do you?!” 

Before Bokuto can answer, the punk whispers breathlessly, “She is a goddess. I’m seeing Kichijoten herself.” 

You blink innocently from behind your cover as he falls to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks. You have no idea what is wrong with him and you don’t want to even know what drugs he is on. What sort of hallucinogens can make somebody see a god? 

As if sensing your discomfort, Bokuto’s eyes train at you, a pout forming on his lips. One of his hands comes to rest on his hips when he shouts, “Hey, Kuroo, keep your underclassmen away from Choco-chan! They are scaring her!” 

You giggle nervously, but don’t refute the statement, mostly because they are definitely scaring you alright. You will j-just remember their faces for the future when you will have enough power to take your revenge for embarrassing you like that. Haha, let them all forgot all about you, for now, you will stand quietly and _endure_. 

With that in mind, you pull the cloth of Atsu’s shirt once more and he looks back at you worriedly. He brings his hand to his hair and ruffles it in frustration, “See? She looks so scared! Take him away!” 

Okay, not what you wanted, but you will take it, as long as that punk goes away. Whatever that person has taken could be infectious and you are not going to just wait to become a zombie. 

“You scare her yourself plenty already,” Kuroo answers smoothly and Bokuto scrunches his nose, causing the brunet to chuckle at the betrayed look Bokuto gives him, “You kind of kidnapped her, to be fair.” 

“Hey, can somebody calm down Taketora-san?” somebody asks, looking at the punk worriedly, “Taketora-san?” 

“Aren’t you captain, Kuroo?” a bored voice resounds and you notice a boy with hair that instantly makes you think of pudding holding Nintendo Switch. That’s an interesting choice of color, you guess, but who are you to judge? The boy doesn’t even raise his eyes, but he looks sort of irritated. 

“Catch, Kyanma,” the brunet answers, though he doesn’t throw the bottle and just hands it over to the pudding-haired boy, “Had to go to the center to get the apple flavor - and found this airhead instead.”

The boy takes the bottle with a small nod. You notice his cat-like eyes blink slowly before he answers, opening the soda, “Thanks. Took you a long time, Kuroo.”

“I found _you_ , Kuroo-tan,” Oreo Cookie retorts with puffed cheeks. Kuroo sends him a sly smile over his shoulder, eyebrows wriggling. 

“Did you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo („• ֊ •„) Is going outside tiring as hell or is it just me? Thought I would publish this on Friday, but then I had to go out (never again). Well, we have more of Kuroo and Bokuto and MC being stupid, and then, we finally meet Nekoma and Fukurodani! Kinda.
> 
> Also, hey, chapter 50! Wanted to do sth special, but couldn't think about anything. Like, what could be fun? AU in which MC goes to Karasuno? Somebody's POV? IDK, forgive me, I'm stupid asdfghjkl. I think having the chapter is cool too, so, haha, have chapter! Okay, that was awkward-
> 
> Kichijoten is the Japanese goddess of beauty. Wanted for Yamamoto to call MC Aprodyte in the beginning, but decided to go with Japanese ;-; If somebody knows more, feel free to scream at me. TBH, feel free to scream to me about everything.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Stay safe everybody ~


End file.
